


Things We Don't Expect

by xwincesterx



Series: Things We Have To Do [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sick Sam Winchester, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwincesterx/pseuds/xwincesterx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean expect a lot of all kinds of things in the supernatural world. But this isn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's been over six weeks since they began this...new relationship with each other. They'd left that little hotel behind a month ago and headed west.

Things had been fairly slow. Just a few simple salt 'n burns in a couple different states, and enough down time to spend some highly demanded quality time together in motel after cheesy motel. Usually Dean wasn't a big fan of down time. Now he couldn't wait for it. He could do his job, mind you. Their relationship hadn't taken away any of his ability to concentrate on the tasks at hand, nor Sam's. But when they weren't having to use their complete and undivided attention on a hunt and keeping each others backs safe, there was nothing they wanted more than to be curled up in some shape, form or fashion with each other.

This morning, they'd arrived in Cook County, Illinois. Sam had gotten a phone call from an old friend from school. Well, an old friend's brother anyway. Jess's best friend back in college was killed in a freak bear attack a week earlier. Her brother remembered Sam and wanted to let him know.

Sam needed to go; he couldn't not. It was that last piece of Jess he knew had still been around. Plus, the kid sounded devastated on the phone, and Sam was incapable of ignoring that.

He didn't ask Dean. But Dean knew right away that he needed to take him there. Even though he'd missed the funeral, he'd want to go and get some kind of closure, or whatever girly thing Sam might be thinking. And that thought wasn't even negative, really. Dean very much thought that Sam's thoughts were important, no matter how chick-flick they might be. Even if he gave him a hard time about it, he never thought that anything Sam felt wasn't worth believing in.

Sam met the girl's brother, Peter, at a local coffee shop. They talked. Well, Peter talked and Sam listened. He'd insisted that Dean stay at the hotel and watch the Dr. Sexy marathon while he was gone, sparing him what would most likely end up being completely uninteresting to someone who didn't know these people.

So there he was, marathon now over, lying in the bed closest to the door (there were only double bed rooms), forcing himself not to pace anymore. It was nearing midnight and Dean missed his brother. Hell, he'd missed him a couple of hours into the marathon, and that'd still been just after noon. It wasn't that he was horny or bored, because he was. Well, he had been. Now he was bordering on 'worried' instead. Though Sam had called him hours ago to tell him that Peter and a couple of the kid's friends were going to take him hiking up to the spot where Amanda, Jess's best friend, had been attacked by the bear.

Dean had been anxious about it, asking, "What if it wasn't a bear, Sammy?" But Sam had replied with, "Already thought of that, Dean. Peter was there when the attack happened and it was definitely a bear. And it didn't even seem to mean to kill her, but it was frightened because they'd gotten too close to her cubs, pushed Amanda away, hard, and her head collided with a rock."

"What if she's haunting the woods?"

"She died at the hospital, and she was cremated last week."

"Did you at least bring a gun?"

"I've got a knife, Dean," he assured. "Hey, if you're that worried, I can swing by and pick you up. You can go hiking with us."

"I'm not worried," Dean fibbed. "It's fine... Just be careful, okay?"

"I'll be fine," he told him and Dean could hear the smile. "Just wanted to let you know I'd be back late, and not to freak out when I don't pick up my phone if you call. Probably not very good reception in the woods."

So yeah, Dean was getting a little worried anyway. He tried to focus, instead, on the fact that this Peter kid had just lost his sister, and that had to have been hard. Sam always had this way of helping people. People took comfort in him. He wondered if Sam would need comfort when he got back.

Like clockwork, the headlights from the Impala flashed through the small gap in the curtains as it turned in. Dean's heart skipped happily, relieved. He shot out of bed and opened the door just in time for Sam to get to it.

Sam found himself wrapped tightly in his brother's embrace the moment he entered the room, and he couldn't help the chuckle as his kicked the door shut behind him. "I missed you too," he said, hugging him back as tightly.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, not letting go.

"Yeah. It's...yeah, everything's fine," he told him, squeezing him tighter to him.

"Are you okay?" Dean gently pulled back to meet his eyes. "I know this musta been..." he shook his head, not really knowing how to word his thoughts.

"I'm okay," Sam gave him a sad smile. "I feel sad for Peter. I mean, he lost his only sibling. I know how that feels," his eyes shifted away for a moment. "But I got you back, and he isn't gonna be so lucky."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn't really been thinking about Peter's feelings in all of this. But he knew all too well what losing a sibling felt like. If he hadn't been able to get Sam back that first time, there was no way he'd have been able to go on. Of course, not all siblings were as close as Sam and him; new-found sexual relationship aside.

"I meant, ya know, what it means to you," Dean said a bit softer.

Sam took a breath and walked to sit down on the edge of the bed, holding onto Dean's hand so he'd follow suit. "It's just...one more piece of Jessica that's gone," he admitted. "But the more time that goes by and the more I find out, Jess and I were never meant to be together. She was just another innocent pawn in a diabolical plan to lead me down a path to where fate wanted me to end up. Yes I loved her," he said, meeting Dean's eyes, "But never like I love you; loved you even then... I honestly don't think it would've ever been possible to feel that way about anyone but you. Jess...she was an innocent bystander, a victim that unwittingly got in the way of the course that destiny laid out for me.

"Normal people...well things walk into their lives that change them, change their fate. Us? Well, we never saw our destinies coming until bodies started piling up and blood had to be shed to get us at least steered enough off course that we came out the other end in one piece..." he took a few breaths, realizing that Dean was intently listening to every word; allowing him to get everything out. "Short answer, though?" he half-smiled, "Amanda was never quite sure about me. She didn't like me. Thought I wasn't good for Jess. Turns out she was right," he laughed, sadly. Dean squeezed his hand. "But I think she always knew that Jess died because of me, somehow. Even if she didn't even understand that. Why Peter called me, I don't even know," he shook his head. "Amanda must've said something nice about me. Maybe she didn't hate me after all."

"How could anyone hate you?" Dean asked sincerely.

Sam's mouth curled up on one side. "People that haven't been around me long enough to get their lives screwed up, that question might apply."

"I've been around you longer than anyone. My life isn't screwed up." Sam raised a brow. "I mean, it's not any more screwed up than it's ever been."

"I'm the reason our entire lives are screwed up, Dean," he countered. "I'm the reason the yellow-eyed demon ever came into our lives..."

"That's not true," Dean raised his brows. "Mom made a deal with him. If it's anyone's fault it's hers." Sam looked at him with surprise at the fact that he'd just said such a thing about their mother. Usually he was ever-defensive, even when it was the truth on the table. "Hell," he shrugged, "It's not even really her fault either. They had us all targeted from the moment mom and dad were born. We never had a chance," he shook his head with a sad smile of his own. "But ya know what? Turns out...even with all the bullshit and the crazy-as-fuck life we've had, I still got a happy ending, Sammy. I still got you..."

As much of an understatement as that all had been, Sam couldn't help but be moved by it. He gave a watery smile and shook his head, eyes squinting a little as his lips pursed a bit, like whenever he tried to speak without letting his emotions get out of control. "I don't deserve you," he said, almost in a whisper.

"Of course you deserve me," Dean's brows furrowed. "We deserve each other, and no one else deserves us. I mean fuck, man..." he shook his head. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Would you?"

Dean found himself suddenly being straddled by his brother, grabbing onto his shirt to keep from falling backwards. "I love you so much, Dean," Sam said before smashing their mouths together in an attempt to prove it. Dean's hands found their way up to Sam's hair, grabbing fists-full as he returned the kiss with enthusiasm. And when Sam moaned into Dean's mouth in response to the slight pulling of his hair, Dean led them both backward so he was on his back with Sam over him.

It was Dean's turn to groan as Sam pressed his already half-hard cock into Dean's, through their jeans. "Fuck, baby, love you too," one of his hands traveled down to Sam's ass, urging him to do it again.

Sam chuckled. "You love the sex," he smirked.

"Hey! Who started this?"

"Touche..." Sam dove down to Dean's neck, grazing his teeth over his pulse-point and sucking until Dean made the keening sound he'd been aiming for.

"I mean...of course I love the sex," Dean panted underneath his brother, unable to resist thrusting his hips up into him. "But...I'd still love you...more than anything...even if we couldn't have it..." Sam pulled away just enough to meet Dean's eyes, looking at him as he absorbed the statement. While he hovered there, Dean got a bit anxious. "Let's...ya know not stop having sex though, okay?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "That's not why I stopped. It's just...that was a really romantic, chick-flick thing to say."

"Shut up!" Dean pouted.

"No, I like it sometimes," he leaned down to kiss his lips. "It's...unexpected, like when you let me drive for no reason in particular..." Dean was blushing, now, and Sam just smiled at him; at how adorable it was. Until Dean pulled him back down to kiss him again, more roughly this time. Sam groaned against his mouth, pressing himself against Dean once more before his hand slipped between them and began to open Dean's pants.

There was a moment where Dean tried to flip them over, and Sam stopped him, pinning his wrists down on the mattress on either side of his head; ordered him not to try it again. Dean's breath had knocked out of him at the command, and his eyes went to focus on the ceiling as Sam attacked his neck and continued getting both their pants jerked down just enough to be able to get their dicks out. There was something about Sam taking control that just...did something to Dean like nothing else could.

In the end, Sam had brought them both off with one hand wrapped around both hard cocks, and they were covered in each others come. Sam had made some comment about needing to do the laundry in the morning, and Dean had started stripping them both free of their clothes before dragging Sam into the shower with him.

"Whoa, dude, you got bit the hell up," Dean's fingers investigated the patch of bug bites on Sam's left shoulder blade. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah. Just itches," he replied, trying to turn his head to look back. "I sprayed that repellant crap from the trunk on me. Guess I missed a spot."

"Or it's expired. But hell...no, wait. You're bit up in a couple other spots, too. I was gonna say it was weird that they only picked this one spot."

"Maybe that was the sweetest spot," Sam smirked.

"Fuckin' mosquitoes best not touch you again," Dean growled. "I'm the only one that gets to taste you," he turned Sam around and pressed him up against the shower wall...

.~*~.

Three states and six days later, the brothers were filling a grave back in when it started to downpour like no ones business.

Dean was cursing and Sam was laughing, both hurrying to get all the dirt back into the hole so they could take off.

"It's not funny, Sam!" Dean shouted as they started back to the car. "We're soaking freaking wet and it's gonna stink up the upholstery."

"It's a little funny," Sam chuckled. "And it's not that big a deal."

"I just think we should have...I dunno, some kind of assistant or something, ya know? I mean, why do we do all the work, huh? We do the traveling, the hero stuff, and the cleaning up. We should have a clean up crew!"

"Like what," Sam snorted a laugh, "Alfred?"

"No. Not like Alfred. He was old. And damnit, see what I mean though? Batman didn't even have to make his own sandwiches."

"We're not Batman."

"No, we're not. We're better than Batman. Batman had one city, and they were normal people and he was rich and had awesome gadgets to fight with and a mansion and a butler. We have the whole country to look out for, depend on theft and hustling pool to survive, and...well I guess our gadgets are kinda cool..."

"And we don't need a mansion," Sam added. "And we have a Dean-mobile."

Dean laughed at that as they approached the Impala. "Let's grab some towels or something from the trunk; lay 'em out on the seats, Robin."

Sam huffed as Dean threw open the trunk. "I'd be Batman," he argued. "You're shorter."

Dean glanced at him with an incredulous look for just a moment before realizing that Sam was expecting it, then turned back to the trunk to throw the shovels in. "Yeah, well I'm older, and Batman is definitely older than Robin. So I'm Batman."

"Oh right I forgot, you are pretty old," he smirked as he pulled the blanket from the trunk.

Dean squinted at him as he closed it. "Neither of us is Robin, okay? You're...you're Batgirl," he smirked, slyly.

"You are such a jerk," Sam shook his head, but his smile was still firmly in place as they headed into the car, Sam throwing the blanket across the seats before they got in.

Dean smiled big as he laughed, looking over at Sam as he started the car, just to make sure he knew he was just messing around. "Man, you are soaked," he said as he looked him up and down. "Good thing it was pretty hot out to begin with. Which makes me wonder why the hell you're shivering," he raised his brows as he looked him over.

"I dunno," he huffed with a smile. "Rain made me chilly I guess." He glanced down to where Dean had obviously shoved his flashlight into the front of his pants while they'd escaped the rain, and giggled at what it looked like. "What's that?" he snorted, gesturing to the bulge it made in his pants.

Dean looked down, then up at Sam again. "What...this? It's just my package," he slyly smirked, raising his brows for a moment. "Yep. God delivered it. I signed for it. World keeps on spinnin'."

"Dude," Sam laughed, "Did you just quote Stewie?"

"Stop knowing all my quotes, damnit," he grunted, but without any real heat behind it, then pulled away from the graveyard...


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they got to the hotel, Sam was shivering a bit harder and Dean couldn't understand it. They were both soaked to the bone, but it was in the 80's, and the car was warmer. With the rain, they'd kept the windows up. There was no way Sam could be cold. Unless...

Dean reached over and put a hand on Sam's forehead. "Holy shit, dude!" his eyes widened. "How long have you been burning up?"

"What?" Sam looked at him in question.

"You've got an obvious fever, Sam. No wonder you've been freezing. Come on," he shoved the keys into his pocket and pushed out of the car.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam shook his head, amused by his brother's concern as he followed him to the hotel room door.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes and dry off and get some Tylenol in you," he argued as he pushed him into the room.

"Maybe I just need you in me," Sam flirted, pushing Dean back against the door once it was closed. "Maybe I'm just hot for you."

Dean growled, having to fight the urge to give in and give Sam what he wanted. "Soon as your fever goes down," Dean told him, pulling Sam's shirt over his head. "Now help me get you outta these," he unbuttoned Sam's jeans.

"Gladly," Sam smiled and started pushing them down. Dean led him over to the nearest bed, forcing him to sit once the jeans were down past his ass. Dean pulled them the rest of the way off, ignoring the way Sam's cock slapped against his abs, hard and red like he'd been thinking about this the whole way to the hotel.

"Just...hang on. I'm gonna grab a towel," Dean told him as he tried to keep his eyes off of him.

"You're soaked, too, you know," Sam commented as Dean disappeared into the bathroom. "You should get outta those clothes."

"I plan to," Dean said as he came back with a towel and started roughly drying Sam's hair. "Just as soon as you're dry. I'm not the one burning up."

"We could change that," Sam said, voice muffled by the towel, yet he still managed to find Dean's zipper. But Dean was so busy trying not to be affected and continue drying him off, he didn't realize what his brother was doing until his jeans and boxers were being yanked down.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean slapped Sam's hands away. "Come on, Sam! This is serious!"

Sam grabbed the towel and tossed it away before grabbing Dean's shirt and pulling him down as he quickly dropped back onto the mattress. "I'm being totally serious, Dean," he told him as he pressed his hard length against Dean's. "I'm still stretched from last night. If you think I'm so feverish right now, just imagine how hot I must be inside... Don't you wanna know?" He could see how his brother was fighting giving in, struggling to try and move away but the way his jeans were pulled around his knees, he was having trouble. "Please," Sam tried another tactic. "Please, Dean...want you so bad..." he breathed against Dean's ear when he tried to look away, continuing to press his hips up against him.

"Damnit... If I do this, will you promise you'll let me take care of you?" Dean asked, a bit breathlessly. "Let me get you cooled down and take the friggin' meds so we can get your fever down?"

"Anything," Sam promised. "Anything you want, Dean, just please...want you in me."

Dean let out a rush of air, feeling partly guilty for doing this, but unable to ignore Sam's advances any longer. The dirty talk is what usually got to him faster than anything. He didn't know why; it hadn't always been something he was into. But with Sam...it was a whole other story.

"C'mon, De- fuck me... Don't even need to use lube..." he begged, pulling at his brother and kissing him wherever skin was closest to his mouth.

"Fuck, Sam, no... That's where I draw the line. We're using lube, damnit," he grunted, reaching over to his bag that sat on the floor next to the bed. Sam spread his legs wider, pulling Dean harder against him and drawing a groan from him. Sam should've known better, really. One time...one time he'd told Dean "fuck the lube" and when they were finished, Dean saw a little blood on his dick, blood running a bit from Sam's ass, and he'd freaked. Even though Sam had insisted that he was fine, Dean couldn't handle it. Sam had to reassure him for the rest of that night. He'd even held him as they slept, though Dean would deny it if he ever brought it up again.

"C'mon, Dean...fuck me..." Sam begged as he pulled his knees back, presenting himself to his brother.

Fuck if that didn't just about make Dean lose it right there. Sam was so eager, Dean couldn't stand to make him wait any longer. He lubed himself up and reached down with slick fingers, drizzling more of the lube onto Sam's clenching hole and pressing them in. "Damn, baby, you are still stretched and open for me, aren't you..."

"Please..."

Dean removed his fingers and lined himself up, pressing in slowly at first, until Sam's heels pressed into his brother's ass and urged him forward. "Shit," Dean's eyes slammed closed as he bottomed out inside the overheated canal.

"Yeah...fuck, Dean, c'mon..." Sam urged.

"Jesus, Sammy, gonna fuckin' kill me," he dove down to kiss him again, feeling the heat radiating from his mouth as well.

The cheap, slightly loosened headboard smacked into the wall behind it repeatedly as Dean thrust into him over and over. It wasn't more than a few minutes before Sam was shouting Dean's name with his release, come hitting his stomach without ever having let go of his legs.

At the last moment, Dean pulled out and spent right on top of Sam's own release, then nearly collapsed on top of him before coming back to his senses and realizing he had a job to do.

Sam laid there spread out and completely limp, only returning to reality when he felt the cool rag cleaning up their mess from his abs. He smiled lazily up at Dean, who returned with a more worried expression.

"We shouldn't've done that," Dean said, reaching for the bottle of Tylenol.

Sam made a face. "Sex? I think it's a bit late to be reconsidering fucking each other-"

"I mean now, Sam," Dean rolled his eyes. "You're sick or something. Your skin is red from this fever, dude."

"So I've got a virus or something," Sam shrugged, moving to sit up. "I don't feel cold anymore at least."

"Because we just fucked," Dean raised his brows as he handed him the pills and water bottle.

"See? It was a good thing to do."

"Just take your medicine and lie down," Dean grabbed a clean pair of Sam's boxers and slid them up Sam's legs while he swallowed the pills. "Lift up," he told him when he got to his thighs. He expected some remark like, "Jesus, Dean, I'm not five." But Sam just set the water down on the table and lifted his hips like he'd been asked. That would've worried him even more, but it was kinda normal for feverish-Sam.

Sam yawned and it ended in a shiver. "Guess it didn't last very long," he said as he grabbed for the earlier discarded blanket.

"I need to get a thermometer or something," Dean helped pull the blanket up over Sam's shoulders as Sam curled up on his side. "There's a drug store up the street. I can be there and back in five minutes-"

"Stay," Sam's wide eyes looked up at him, pleadingly. "Help keep me warm?"

"Hell, Sammy, I'd probably feel cold to you, the way you're radiating right now."

"No you won't," he insisted. "And it's okay, really. If I have a fever, it's better to let it run its course."

Dean considered him for a moment. "Alright," he decided, finally. "But only because you sounded more yourself just now. So maybe that shot of peter-cillin helped," he said as he climbed into bed beside him, curling up behind him under the covers. Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, though the smile remained. "You feel sick or anything in the night, you wake me up."

"Okay," he sighed, sinking back into the warmth of his brother.

"I mean it. Anything at all, just nudge me."

"I will, Dean," he put his arm over Dean's which draped around his waist. "Love you."

"Love you, too, Sammy. G'night..."

.~*~.

By morning, Sam's breathing had changed. Dean woke up from it, in fact. He knew that breathing pattern unfortunately well.

"Sammy?" he whispered. "Migraine?"

"J-just a headache," he choked out in a whisper. "But...think 'm gonna be sick..."

"C'mon, baby," Dean moved out of the bed as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the fact that the front of him was wet from Sam sweating, and helped his brother to the bathroom...where he promptly threw up the acid from his stomach into the toilet. Dean stood beside him, holding him steady as Sam fought the continued convulsing of his stomach. He grabbed and wet a washcloth in the sink with cool water with his free hand and brought it up to the back of Sam's heated neck. Sam looked miserable.

Miserable Sam was something he only really ever saw when Sam was sick. Injuries and pain was one thing. Sick Sam was a miserable Sam; a different kind of Sam, and it wasn't often it ever came around. But it was very much obvious that Sam was sick.

"Must've gotten the flu or something," Sam said, weakly, once his stomach seemed to stop revolting.

"Maybe so," Dean closed the lid on the toilet and flushed, then led Sam to sit on it as he re-wet the cloth and started gently wiping Sam's face and neck. "Doesn't make much sense though, seeing as we've both been in the same places together for weeks now. Not to mention we've been swapping bodily fluids on a regular basis." He handed Sam some water to rinse his mouth out, but he only got it half-way to his mouth before he couldn't seem to hold onto the bottle anymore. Dean caught it before it could fall to the floor.

Sam got a strange, guilty look on his face suddenly. "I...shouldn't have made you sleep with me last night," his eyes darted in the air in front of him. "You might get sick, too..."

"Hey, I'll be fine. I am fine. Maybe I'm just immune or something," he smirked. "It's okay, anyway, because you're gonna get better soon enough, so if I do get sick, you can take care of me."

"But I don' wan' y-you to g-get...s...s..." Sam couldn't seem to say the rest of what he'd been thinking. It was scary. And Sam knew plenty of scary things in his lifetime, but this...this was something he didn't know how to handle. He panicked, looking to Dean and realizing that the same panicked look had taken over his face as well.

"Sam?" Dean knelt down in front of him, ignoring the pain in his knee from the hard bathroom floor, and took his brother's face in his hands. "Sammy, calm down and breathe," he instructed. It wasn't until he'd said it, that Sam realized he was in the beginning stages of hyperventilation. "Baby..." Dean swallowed, "Can you try again? Talk to me?"

"I..." Sam's breath hitched. "I don'...w-w-" he couldn't do it, and it overwhelmed him to the point that tears filled his eyes.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," Dean's voice shook. Sam looked like he was going to protest, but Dean shook his head immediately. "Don't argue with me, Sammy. You're seriously scaring the shit outta me right now, an' I don't scare easy." Sam swallowed, bringing his hands up to Dean's wrists and feeling even more nervous at Dean's admission. "I dunno if it's that your fever's so high or what, but when it starts affecting your noggin', I ain't takin' any chances. Okay?"

After a moment, Sam nodded...


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had called the hospital on the way there, impatiently listing Sam's symptoms. They told him to bring him is as soon as possible, to which he replied accordingly that, "What am I, an idiot? I'm already on the way!" And followed up with, "I'm sorry...I...I'm just...I'm worried."

Beside him, Sam tried to hide as much as he could to stop Dean worrying so much.

Once they arrived, thankfully the ER was fairly vacant. Maybe a handful of patients were sitting in the waiting room as Sam stood close to Dean at check-in, Dean urgently letting them know that he'd called in on the way.

The woman at the desk seemed unenthusiastic and uncaring about what Dean was panicking about, and told them to have a seat and wait.

"But he's sick!" Dean argued. "He needs to see someone right now! Not after you look at Joe Shmoe's tennis elbow!" Sam looked awful, couldn't they see that? Sweating and beet red, barely able to stand straight.

"Mr..." she glanced down at the insurance card he'd handed her, "Grovkowski," she read and looked back up at him, "Someone will be with you as soon as there's someone available. Until then, you'll need to wait like everyone else."

Dean was about to yell, nostrils flaring impatiently, when he felt Sam's hand grab onto his jacket sleeve. "De..." was all he got out before dropping like a leaf, Dean barely catching him before he hit the floor and began convulsing.

"Oh god," Dean held him on his side, unable to look away from his brother's face as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. "Somebody please! Help him, please!" he shouted.

"Okay, sir, it's alright," a voice said from beside him, and he realized he was surrounded by people now. "We've got him."

Another man, obviously a doctor, asked, "Is this our possible meningitis case?" to another man in scrubs. Then he turned to Dean. "Is this Sam?"

"Y-yeah," Dean replied. "Meningitis? That what this is?" he asked as they got Sam onto a gurney after injecting him with something that stopped the seizure.

"We can't be sure without doing some tests, but the symptoms you described over the phone, fever, vomiting, confusion, and now this seizure, all point in that direction."

"Is that uh...is that...danger—should I be..."

"Sir, I've gotta go help your brother," he interrupted. "I'll come out and talk to you as soon as I can, alright?"

"Yeah...okay yeah...Go. Go help Sammy..." Dean nodded, nervously looking around in the air between them. Then he watched them disappear through the ER doors.

What seemed like hours later, Dean was back to pacing the waiting room. He'd grabbed Sam's laptop from the trunk after initially freaking out while pacing, and decided to tap into the wi-fi for Starbucks next door, where he googled meningitis.

The symptom list was amazingly on target. But it's when he typed in "Is meningitis serious" that his anxiety shot through the roof.

Meningitis is a serious illness, however if the disease is diagnosed early and treated promptly most people make a complete recovery.

In the case of bacterial meningitis, the sufferer will become very ill and deteriorate rapidly - prompt treatment can mean the difference between life and death. However, in some cases it can be fatal, or it may lead to permanent disability such as deafness, limb amputation, or brain damage.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he'd cursed, slamming the computer closed and tossing it into the passenger seat. His hands when into his hair as he laid back in his seat, eyes closed in a state of panic. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked himself out loud. "What can I do?" his eyes opened and he went back inside the hospital.

Now he was waiting for word. If they needed him for something, a transfusion, anything, hell a lung if he needed it, he wanted to be there to give it.

"Mr. Grovkowski," the doctor who had spoken to him before came through the doors and straight for him.

Dean met him halfway. "Dean," he corrected.

The doctor nodded. "We were in too much of a rush for me to introduce myself, earlier. I'm Dr. House. You can call me Greg," he shook his hand and Dean raised his brows. "Yeah, no not that Dr. House. Though I get people thinking he was based off of me or something," he smirked. "I'm a diagnostician. ER duty today."

"Hope you're as good," Dean said, trying not to sound too offensive.

"I'd like to think so, though I'm not nearly as much of an asshole."

"Wouldn't matter to me," Dean said, and Greg noticed the shakiness in his voice. "As long as you can fix Sam."

Greg gave him an understanding smile. "We're working on it. Just gotta figure out what's going on with him, first."

"Thought you said it might be meningitis."

"That's what I thought initially. We've done a spinal tap and ran tests for all forms. But they're all coming back negative."

"What else could it be?" Dean couldn't help but to feel a little relieved at the news.

"My colleagues are thinking Neurosyphilis, and currently checking the spinal fluid we've already taken."

"Whoa wait...syphilis?" Dean gave him an incredulous look. "Sam isn't in any way promiscuous. He's had like no lovers in years."

"It could take years to develop," Greg replied. "That aside, I'm thinking more along the lines of encephalitis, and we'll be running those tests as soon as the current ones are finished and we've ruled out neurosyphilis."

"Wait," Dean shook his head as if to clear all of the information being thrown at him. "What is that? Encephalitis..."

"In short, it's inflammation of the brain usually due to a viral infection. Presents itself like the flu."

"This seems like a little more than the flu, doc," he breathed.

"Which is where that whole seizure thing kinda waves a red encephalitis flag."

"You seem very sure," Dean looked him in the eye.

"I'm usually right," he shrugged.

"And if you are, what do we do then?"

"Depending on how severe, he may only need bed rest, fluids and anti-inflammatory drugs to relieve the headaches, which we've already taken the liberty in starting."

There was a moment where Dean stood there absorbing what he'd heard. "That's it?"

"Let's hope."

Dean looked around in the air between them as he thought. "Is it contagious?" he asked, meeting Greg's eyes again.

"If it turns out to be neurosyphilis, well, you probably already know that syphilis is an STD. Encephalitis is more easily spread. You can catch it through saliva contact, like drinking after someone whose been infected."

"When would he have gotten it? I mean...how long would it have taken to start showing signs?"

"Neurosyphilis...could be years in the making. Encephalitis starts showing symptoms within a week, week and a half."

"Well Sammy hasn't been around anyone but me for months. We travel pretty much all the time. We're pretty cautious people. We don't drink after anyone but each other, and I'm guessin' I'd be sick, too, if it's encephalitis like you think."

"Sometimes symptoms never show," the doctor countered. "In fact, it's most often the case, really. If it turns out that's what it is, we'll of course be treating you accordingly." Greg seemed to look off slightly to the right in thought for a moment. "You say you travel a lot?

"We're on the road more often than not," Dean replied.

"Do you do a lot of camping, by any chance?"

"No. Not at all. Well...we've been at campsites and stuff, but we don't camp. Why?"

"Sometimes encephalitis can be transmitted from mosquitoes."

Dean was sure the doctor kept on talking, but his ears were ringing loud enough to mute it. The statement had made him recall something from the week before. "Doc," Dean met his eyes again, the audible world suddenly coming back into focus. "Sam went hiking with a kid who'd just lost his sister in an accident. He went without me. This was exactly a week ago. He came back and his shoulder was bit up like crazy. Our bug repellant stuff expired or something. We didn't even think anything of it..."

He must've spaced out again, because suddenly Greg's hand was on his shoulder, jarring his attention back to him. "We're gonna take good care of him, Dean. I promise you that."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment. "Can I see him?"

Greg nodded, "He's been asking for you since he woke up. We have him in ICU simply because it's a bit better of a quarantine zone in the case that we're wrong and it's something more contagious. Since you two have been together, if it is, in fact, contagious, you've already been exposed. We'd like for you to stay here with him, just in case you do start showing symptoms. We won't admit you unless you do. But it's a good idea to stay close if there's no one around to monitor you otherwise."

"No arguments here," Dean replied. "I'm not leaving him."

Greg smiled. "You must care an awful lot about him," he said as he turned to lead him to the room.

"More than anything in the world," Dean replied as he followed him. "Tell me...do you think he'd need something, like...would I need to donate blood or anything like that?"

"If you've got what he's got, you'd be ineligible anyway, but I don't foresee us needing that. Why?"

"I dunno. I was just wondering if it'd be important for me to tell you what our relationship is," he swallowed, not used to having to talk about these kinds of things.

"You mean the fact that you're married?"

Dean paused in his tracks. "What?"

"Well," Greg stopped for a moment and turned to him, "It's obvious you two are together, the way you talk about him. You travel together, haven't been around anyone but each other for months. You have the same last name, so I assume you're married, or severely co-dependent brothers." He smiled at his own words, and Dean almost laughed at the entire statement. "And I see your ring, though Sam doesn't seem to have one."

Dean glanced down at his hand. "Oh...this isn't a wedding ring," he told him. "I've just had it forever."

"So...you're not..."

"We just don't do things like rings," Dean looked back up at him. "Can't really afford it, and it's not something we need, ya know? It's... We trust each other. We don't need rings to fend off other people."

After a moment, Greg smiled again. "I can respect that," he told him, then turned to lead him again. "So how long have you been together?" he asked.

"Forever," Dean said. "Years," he added instead.

"So there were others in his life before you."

"Yeah, well, Sam's never been the kinda guy to sleep with a ton of people. That was my game, before him. Sam...well he's only ever been with maybe a handful of girls, all respectable. No one you'd peg for having an STD, ya know?"

"Just another reason to back up my theory," House smirked at him as he stopped beside the ICU room door. "This is it. Try to keep his spirits up. Laughter is supposed to be the best medicine. But uh...don't spread that around," he lowered his voice. "It might put me out of a job." Then he patted Dean on the shoulder and turned to head off.

Dean had the lingering thought that when this was all over, he'd have to bring the guy out for a beer with him and Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

He entered Sam's room and saw his brother lying in the inclined hospital bed. He was wearing a white gown covered in some little brown symbols he couldn't quite make out what they were. A white blanket was draped over him up to his waist. Once he saw Dean coming toward him, he seemed to sag with relief.

"Dean," he managed a smile.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean returned the smile, happy to finally see him as he grabbed onto his hand. "How ya feeling?"

"Better. Maybe we could leave?" he asked in a small voice, brows raised as he made the puppy-dog eyes that Dean fell for every time when he was a kid.

"They're still running some tests," Dean said as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hand still in Sam's. "We gotta stay and make sure you're gonna be okay."

"But I don't...I don't wanna be here, Dean. I need to be with you."

"I ain't leavin'," Dean told him, brushing Sam's hair behind his ear with his free hand. "Stayin' here with you the whole time. I promise," he said, then leaned in to give him a kiss. Sam's hand came up to Dean's face, his thumb brushing his cheek before Dean pulled away. "They tell you what's going on?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I'm so sorry, Dean," he said with worry in his eyes. "You're probably sick, too. This is my fault..."

"Shut up, man, this isn't your fault," Dean shook his head. "You didn't ask for this."

"If it's syphilis-"

"It's not that. Doc doesn't think so, and he seems pretty smart to me. Even so, still not your fault. Hell, if it was syphilis I'd probably blame me," he smirked.

"Neurosyphilis takes a long time to show. It'd be my fault."

"It'd be whatever chick who gave it to you, that'd be to blame. And if it's encephalitis and I've got it too, hey, no biggie. That's like if you gave me a cold. It happens."

Sam couldn't really much argue with that, so he stayed silent. But the look of guilt still remained.

"So...how are you feeling really?" Dean asked, "Now that you aren't getting outta here any time soon..."

"Head hurts. Tired," Sam admitted. "Don't know why. I slept fine last night."

"'Cause you're sick. You're body's fighting something off. They gave you something for the headache, right?" he asked, looking at the IV in Sam's arm and following the line up to the fluids on the pole.

"Yeah. Just...not really helping yet."

"Probably because you're fighting sleep."

"I was...I was just waiting for you," he admitted.

Dean's mouth curled up on one side. "Well I'm here. So get some sleep, okay? We'll play cards when you're up again."

"What're you gonna do?"

"I'll watch some crappy daytime TV," he told him, taking the remote that was hooked to Sam's bed as he moved to the chair beside the bed.

.~*~.

"Hey, Dean," Dr. House squeezed his shoulder when he found him asleep in the chair. Dean pulled out of his sleep without having realized he'd been there in the first place.

"Time 's it?" he asked, glancing toward the window and seeing that it was dark.

"Late," he told him. "You haven't eaten since you've been here, and I'm about to head out for the night. You should go eat something."

"Can't leave Sam," Dean said. "I'll be fine."

"You won't be any good to him if you pass out from malnourishment. Hey, we've got an excellent night staff here. Sam is on lorazepam until his fever breaks. He's gonna sleep through the night. It'll be alright to leave for a bit to eat."

"Look, I get it. I do, Doc. But I can't leave him. But uh...listen, I promise I'll go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite as soon as they open."

Greg sighed. "Alright. But I'll hold you to that. I get in at five. I see you up here when I clock in, I'll force an IV on you," he smirked. Dean made a face laced carefully with amusement, though it didn't show much through the exhaustion. "Now, Laura will be in to change his bags within the hour. Word of advice? Pretend to be asleep. If you engage her in conversation, you won't get rid of her unless someone codes."

"I'll...keep that in mind," Dean raised a brow. "Night, Doc. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Dean."

.~*~.

By 5, Dean was totally ready to hit up the cafeteria. Sam was still asleep, and he'd seen House on his way in from the parking lot. So he didn't feel like splurging a little would be so bad. And he was totally starving.

He hit up the breakfast bar, kind of impressed with the selection for a hospital cafeteria. He had a plate piled high and picked a vacant table in the far corner by the window. As he took a bite of his eggs, he absentmindedly looked to the seat across from him and instantly missed Sam. Well, the not-sick Sam that would normally be sitting there making a face at all the bacon and sausage and fried potatoes he'd gotten, not even bothering to waste his breath telling him how unhealthy it was...

.~*~.

Sam pulled out of his sleep slowly, groggily, thick like trying to swim out of a pool filled with pudding. The smell hit him first, right as his eyes began to adjust to the light and a figure came into focus.

"Sam?" an unfamiliar voice spoke, and Sam immediately and reflexively jumped, backing up to the wall in defense.

"Who are you?" he shouted. "Where am I?"

"Calm down! You're alright! You're sick and in the hospital, and I'm your doctor, remember?"

Sam shook his head, looking around anxiously. "Where's Dean?"

"Dean is getting breakfast down in the cafeteria," he told him calmly, wishing he hadn't backed him off the meds just yet. "He should be back any minute now."

Sam swallowed, trying to allow himself to believe what he was being told. He nodded after a moment. "Why am I here?" he asked after scanning over himself for injury.

"Your...Dean brought you in yesterday morning because of a fever and vomiting, confusion. You had a seizure and you've been admitted since. We're running tests. Are you... You don't remember any of that?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "I don't get sick. Not often, anyway."

"Well," the doctor helped him to get back into a comfortable position on the bed, "My name is Greg. You've tested negative for meningitis and neurosyphilis. Encephalitis tests came back inconclusive, but I haven't ruled it out yet. We're going to check a few more things. Your short term memory loss is cause for concern... I'm going to see if I can find Dean. A nurse will be in any minute to change your bag. We're just giving you fluids right now," he explained when Sam nervously looked up at the IV pole. "Just sit tight, alright?"

Sam nodded, still confused.

House ran into Dean just outside the room, and Dean could tell right away by his face that something was wrong. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, anxiously.

"It's okay," Greg told him. "He's okay. But he's suffering a bit of short term memory loss. Didn't know why he was here. Didn't remember me. I'm gonna go and order some more tests. He's asking for you, of course. Go be with him. I'll be in shortly."

Dean hurried into the room and over to the bed and sank down to sit beside him on it. "Sammy?" he put a hand to the side of his brother's face and leaned down to give him a quick kiss if for nothing else to calm the anxious look in his eyes. But it had the opposite effect. Sam's eyes grew wide with surprise and...something...

"Dean, what the hell?" he asked, incredulously.

"What?" Dean shook his head, missing something.

"Why did you...kiss me?" he asked, swallowing once it was out of his mouth.

Dean's heart clenched in his chest and then shot up into his throat...


	5. Chapter 5

"Sam..." Dean's voice shook. The doctor had said short-term memory loss. But this didn't seem right at all. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sam blinked at him for a moment, before his eyes flitted about between them as he thought for a moment. "Um..." he shook his head, trying to get the pieces to fall together. "The witch," he said, looking back up at him. "The curse...the fuck-or-die curse thing. I remember finding the third set of victims. Then...something hit me from behind. Then I woke up here."

Dean pushed off of the side of the bed and paced, let out a couple of panicked breaths he hoped sounded more like just a breathy laugh, before he schooled himself, nodding. "Okay...okay..."

"Dean? How long ago was that? You're...freaking me out here, man," he looked at him with pleading eyes.

Dean met his eyes. "It's been almost two months since we finished that case, Sam," he told him, warily.

"What?" Sam shouted. Then panic set in in his features and Dean rushed back to him, throwing aside the fact that his heart was breaking. Sammy was still his brother. He still loved him. No matter what.

"It's gonna be okay," he assured.

"What the hell happened to me?" there were tears threatening in his eyes.

"You're just sick, Sam. I'm...I'm sure it'll come back..."

"What's going on?" Dr. House sounded as he entered the room.

Dean turned to face him. "This is just temporary, right? The memory loss?"

"More than likely," he replied, and Dean was somewhat relieved.

"Because he's sayin' he doesn't remember the past two months, and I'm just a little bit freakin' the hell out here," he admitted.

Greg seemed to think for a moment, biting on his bottom lip. "I want to do a brain biopsy, with your permission, Sam."

"What? No!" Dean shouted.

"Dean, you've gotta trust me on this."

"You ain't cuttin' into Sam's brain!"

"The encephalitis tests came back inconclusive," he told him. "I still think I'm right. Except I think we're dealing with something a lot more severe, and this is the only way to know."

"What do you mean a lot more severe?" Dean asked.

"I mean," Greg glanced to Sam for a moment, then back to Dean, "If I'm right, and we don't find and treat this soon, it could be fatal."

Sam didn't know how to feel in that moment. But Dean had subconsciously reached down and taken Sam's hand in his and was squeezing. He hadn't even turned to look at him; he was still staring at the doctor, and Sam knew Dean was freaking out.

"Dean, it's okay," Sam squeezed back. Dean wasn't usually one to show this kind of affection...

"No it's not okay, Sammy," his voice shook, still not looking back at him. "None of this is okay. Doc...man, how risky is this biopsy thing? Be honest with me..."

"There are risks," he told him. "Mostly the same risks as any surgery. But with this particular procedure there is a risk of damage that would cause seizures. But I have to tell you," he put a hand up when Dean's face went white, "Our neurosurgeon is one of the best in the country. As long as I've known him, and that's a pretty long time, we've had no injuries following a brain biopsy. None that didn't already exist or were caused by the illness they'd had already." Dean seemed torn. He didn't know what to do and his brain was damn near exploding-level. "I can tell you, though," the doctor continued, "That if I'm right and we don't do this, Sam could end up a hell of a lot worse. Within two weeks, he could be dead."

Dean was near hyperventilation, even with Sam clenching onto his hand for support.

"Ultimately, the decision is yours, Sam," Greg told him.

"Just do it," Sam replied. "I'll be okay, Dean," he promised.

"I'll make sure we've got the floor. We'll need to do a CT beforehand. I'll be back to let you know what time we'll start, and I'll go talk to Dr. Anders, our neurosurgeon, and you'll meet him before anything, alright?"

Sam nodded, but was mostly concerned about his brother. Greg left. Sam wished he could get up and hug Dean, the way he was shaking right now. "Dean...please, man, you gotta talk to me," he almost whispered.

Finally Dean turned to him. Their eyes met, and Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him so scared. "I'm sorry," Dean pulled his hand away, suddenly aware of what he'd been doing.

"It's okay," Sam assured. "Listen, man, I'm scared, too. All of this...I mean I was fine, and then I wake up and suddenly I'm so sick I could die? I mean, I'd be stupid not to be scared right now. But this guy seems to know what he's doing. So...we've gotta have faith," he told him.

Dean had so much to say, and he couldn't say any of it, because Sam didn't remember. "I don't wanna lose you. I can't... I can't take it if I lost you. I love you so much..."

"It'll be okay," Sam repeated. "The worst that could happen is I end up with a seizure issue. But hell, I'll still be alive. It's not that bad a trade-off," he shrugged, trying to make it seem like not such a big deal, just to ease his brother's mind.

"It's not fair to you, Sam," he said. "I mean I get it. If this is the answer, then it saves you. But it's still...it's not fair."

"We're still people, Dean," he reminded him, brows raised. "I mean, doing what we do, sometimes I think we forget that. We can get sick. It's not always gonna just be bloody stitch-needing injuries and broken bones. Sometimes we're gonna have to deal with stuff normal people deal with, too... And it'll be okay. I'll be okay." He took Dean's hand again, and watched as it brought some...something. Relief maybe, to his face.

"I just..." Dean cleared his throat. "I love you, Sammy. You know that, right?"

Sam had been trying so hard not to cry, and that nearly pushed him over. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, Dean. I love you too." Dean was looking at him in a way he didn't think he'd ever seen him look at him before. There was so much in that look. Like his "I love you" meant more than he was supposed to have let on. "Dean...what happened in the past two months?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, forcing his eyes away for a moment. "We'll talk about it later, okay? Right now we just need to focus on getting you better..."

"Alright, Sam," Dr. House came back in, "We've got an opening in the MRI room right now, so I'm gonna go ahead and get you in."

Sam looked to Dean again, squeezing his hand. "It's gonna be okay," he told him.

"Promise?" Dean raised his brows.

"Yeah," Sam smiled.

Dean would have to take it...

.~*~.

Once they took Sam for the biopsy, not even four hours later, which had to be a world freaking record, Dean left the hospital and paced around his car. He played back the moments leading up to them wheeling his bed away. Sam had grabbed onto his shirt and yanked, pulling him into an embrace. Dean had about lost it.

He didn't know what to do. Usually there was something. Something supernatural or whatever he could kill or burn and make everything okay again. But he was at a loss.

Cas was awol. Even if he could manage to find him, chances of him being able to help were slim. No demon would dare make a deal with him again, either. Dean was out of cards. He was out of cards and he was close to breaking point. And he was so not okay with that. Sam said he'd be fine. He shouldn't be so out of his mind right now. But he couldn't help it. He was beyond freaking out. He was helpless.

"If anyone up there is listening," he looked up to the sky, "I kinda need a miracle here. Sam...he's really sick and they're not even sure what it is. Now they're diggin' into his brain and I'm kinda losin' it, here. I know you don't really like me very much...but...if anyone up there cares...even a little bit...please. Please help us. Help Sam..."


	6. Chapter 6

He sees a flash. Waking up naked in the warehouse they'd stalked the witch back to. He's naked, and Dean is, too. Only Dean is tied up and unconscious and it's obvious what they're gonna have to do...

Another flash and he's in front of him. "You can close your eyes," he tells him. "Pretend I'm a girl or something."

And Dean replies, "I'm not closing my eyes, Sam. Gotta make sure you're okay..."

Time skips again and he remembers how it feels. He feels it now. Dean deep inside of him, hands untied and instead wrapped around his hip and cock, and fuck...fuck... "Yeah...god, Dean...right there... Fuck...fuck me..."

Another flash, and now they're not in that same place. Now they're somewhere else and it's not the same at all. Dean is hovering over him with this look...this look he's never really seen before. "I love you, Sam... So much."

"God...I love you too..." he replies.

It's like a dream. Only, Dean smirks and says, "Call me Dean." And Sam knows it's not.

When he wakes up, it feels like he's been asleep for a month. But there's a white board on the wall across from him with the doc's name, the on-duty nurse, and the date. Apparently it's been two days.

Dean is asleep in the chair beside the bed. At least he's changed his clothes since he last saw him. But it's obvious that his sleep is anything but restful. His brows are furrowed and his fingers are twitching under his arms which he has folded on his chest.

Sam laid there watching him, wondering now that he was awake, how true those images in his dreams had been. He thought about how Dean had kissed him the other day, like he'd been doing it out of instinct.

He could understand them having to break the witch's curse. But if that really happened, what was all the rest of it about? What'd happened after that?

"Sammy?" Dean was awake, and Sam had been thinking so hard, he hadn't noticed Dean's eyes open. Dean unfolded from the chair and moved to sit on the bed. Then, as if suddenly coming back to himself, stood back up off of it and simply faced him. "How're you feeling? You've been out like 48 hours or something like that. You didn't take too well to the anesthesia."

"Really?" Sam asked. "Uh...no, I guess I feel okay. My headache isn't as noticeable. What'd they find?"

"Some kind of...uh...herpes."

"What?" Sam's face lit with incredulity.

"Not...not that kind. Uh...herpes...simplex encephalitis," he recalled. "Some kind of crazy deadly encephalitis, and the doc had the theory, so we should thank him for saving your ass."

"Is it...what are they doing? It's curable, right?"

"They started you on some weird antibiotics yesterday, once they confirmed the diagnosis. Something called uh...Anakinskywalker or something..."

"What?" Sam managed a smirk.

"Acyclovir," Dr. House said as he entered, and the smile was evident in his voice. "But good try, Dean."

"Hey, just count your lucky stars I didn't go into the medical field," Dean replied.

"I've never heard of that before," Sam said, his throat a bit dry, and Dean was right there handing him a cup of water. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna be honest with you, Sam. I've only ever come across one other case of this in my career. It's extremely rare. Two in a million ever get it, and over half the people who do, are usually over 50. And the cases I've read about are almost always transmitted sexually."

"But I don't have herpes," Sam said.

"Many people never show signs of it. Honestly, there's usually a case of it for years before it ever develops into something like this. That's why my theory is that your hiking trip that you may well still not remember, where you were bit up by mosquitoes, may be the culprit. It's extraordinarily rare. Nearly impossible..."

"But my luck..." Sam said quietly. "What's my prognosis?"

"I feel good about yours, despite the hype."

"What hype?"

"Well first off, we got you into treatment within 48 hours of symptom onset. That's a really good thing. Your vitals are already improving. Fever is going down. That's a very good sign. I'm not gonna lie to either of you," he looked between them both. "A third of treated patients with this virus don't survive. That's how serious it is."

"Wait, you're..." Dean started, clearly entering back into panic mode, "You're tellin' me there's something like only...6000 people that ever get this, and a third of them die from it?"

"I strongly feel we found it in time that Sam will recover," the doctor replied. "Now...50% of survivors end up with serious long-term neurological damage. Something else I strongly feel we've avoided. Now the categories you may fall in are one of two things," he looked to Sam. "Over twenty percent leave with only minor damage, and a very small percentage walk away with a full recovery. But it'll take months to know for certain. In rare cases you could have a relapse months down the road, which is why, once you're out of here, you'll be taking some long-term antibiotics as a preventative measure."

Sam laid there for a while, glad the bed was at an incline or he didn't think he'd be having an easy time keeping his breathing under control. Then he had a thought wander into his mind, and once it was there, it's all he could seem to think about.

"Sam? Do you have any questions for me?" Greg asked.

"Yeah," he answered weakly. "You said I might've gotten this from mosquitoes. What about Dean? Could he...I mean..." He watched as Dean's back stiffened where he stood facing the doctor, his face not in Sam's line of sight.

"Dean wasn't with you on the hike," Greg replied, glancing to Dean. They'd had this talk when Sam was still out. "But I've started him on the same meds anyway, since the two of you are together and share food and drink. In addition, I've been giving you both corticosteroids. It's still in testing, but highly theorized to assist the meds in working to do their job and help you recover. You'll both be taking the long-term medication when you leave here."

"How long will I need to stay?" Sam asked, not looking away from Dean's tense posture.

"Already anxious to leave?" Greg smirked.

"We're...not exactly huge fans of hospital stays. No offense..." Sam replied, finally looking at him.

"None taken. Not a big fan, myself, honestly. Assuming nothing else pops up and all goes well, you should be out of ICU tonight and admitted into recovery for the next four days. If you've shown marked improvement, you can be released. I recommend you cut your traveling short for a while, though."

"How long?" Sam asked.

"It's fine, Sam," Dean interjected, finally turning a bit to look at him. "We'll stay put in town as long as we need."

"But..."

"No buts. You're more important than anything we'd need to be traveling for. If you're not a hundred percent, it'd be too dangerous anyway. You know that." Dean watched as Sam's face morphed into something akin to guilt, looking down into the air somewhere above the blanket that covered his legs. Dean turned to Greg. "Can you give us a minute, doc?" he asked. Greg nodded and gave him and understanding smile before he left the room. Dean turned back to Sam. "Monsters can wait, Sammy," he told him. "There are other hunters. They can take care of stuff for a while. We deserve a break anyway, right?"

"Or," Sam met his eyes, "You can keep hunting."

"No way," Dean shook his head.

"I can take care of myself, Dean," he argued.

"I don't care."

"Dean-"

"I'm not leaving you, Sam! I'm not going anywhere without you. Not ever again," his eyes shifted back and forth between Sam's.

"What if I'm never a hundred percent again?" Sam raised his brows, the fight leaving his voice.

"Then we never hunt," Dean shrugged. "I don't trust anyone else to have my back."

"You've hunted without me before."

"Yeah well...I don't wanna do it without you. And if I can't have you with me, then screw hunting."

Sam looked at him for a long time, just studying what he'd said, the tone of his voice, and the look in his eyes when he'd spoken. He thought about his dream.

"Dean," he took a breath. "What...happened with the witch?"


	7. Chapter 7

Dean tensed again. "What do you mean?"

"When I was asleep," Sam told him, shifting, suddenly uncomfortable and hesitant, regretting he started the conversation now, "I uh...I had these weird...flashes of dreams. I dunno if they were memories or... Hell, I don't... Never mind," he shook his head.

"No...Sam, no, listen," he sat down on the edge of the bed. "If you're remembering something, I wanna know. That means you're getting better."

"But they may not be real. They...they don't seem real," he kept glancing away.

"Just tell me what you saw. I swear, man, no matter what it is, it's okay. Trust me."

Sam looked him in the eyes for a long moment, building up the courage to continue. "I uh...I dreamed that...the witch got the jump on us. Did she?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

Sam jerked a small nod, took another breath. "I dreamed that she cursed us, like all the other victims. That we had to...uh..."

"Break the curse."

"Yeah," Sam let out a breath. "And it was just you and me and we didn't have much of a choice."

"That's right," Dean held his breath after that.

"And uh...it kinda...sorta seemed like...maybe it wasn't so horrible," his eyes darted around before meeting Dean's again. "Is that...is that what happened?"

Dean could only nod in reply. He let out a breath as he said, "Do you remember anything else?"

Sam took a breath, wondering if he should continue. But it seemed that Dean was really eager for him to. "I uh... In my dream, it was after that. We were...somewhere else." He breathed for a few moments. "You told me something."

"What did I say?" he asked, hopefully.

"You...you said... You told me that you loved me," he said, eyes darting for a moment between them. "And I said I loved you, too," he finished, meeting his eyes again. "Is that real? Did that...did we say that?"

Dean nodded again. "Yeah. Yeah, we did." He paused for a moment to think. "Do you love me, Sam?" he asked, quietly.

"I've always loved you, Dean," he replied, eyes wet.

Dean wasn't sure how to interpret that. That could mean anything. Of course they'd always loved each other. But there was some really important context missing from the issue at hand. "Did you...dream about me kissing you?" he asked.

Sam swallowed, eyes darting again before he shook his head. "We kiss?" he raised a brow. But Dean counted it as a win when he didn't sense any mortification.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, taking another breath before avoiding his gaze for a few moments.

Sam took that as Dean giving him an opportunity to ask more. "Are we... Dean, are we...together?"

Slowly, Dean's eyes came up to meet his again. There was sincerity, honesty and love in them, and it was really the only answer Sam needed. But his eyes shifted for a moment, some pain evident flitting over his features. "If you don't wanna be anymore, we can stop, Sam," he told him. "I won't force you to be uncomfortable on my account..."

"Dean, you idiot," Sam's voice was thick with emotion and Dean met his eyes again and saw tears forming. "I wanna be with you," he told him, and Dean's heart filled so full so fast, he didn't know how to respond just yet. "I've always...always wanted to be with you. But I never thought... Geez, I always thought I was just a freak for wanting that. I never thought you'd want me..." His hand grasped out for Dean's and held it tightly. "I just...wish I could remember. I wanna remember everything. Why is this...happening to me?" the tears fell, then, and Dean couldn't take it.

"It'll be okay, Sammy," he told him, scooting a little closer on the bed and placing his free hand on the side of Sam's neck, comfortingly. "It'll come back, just like it has been. I'm sure of it..."

"But I wanna remember now," his eyes were wide. "I wanna remember...every touch, every thing we said to each other... I wanna remember our first kiss..."

Dean quickly moved in, crushing his lips to Sam's before softening up a bit at Sam's moan. He gently opened his mouth, leading Sam to do the same, and deepened it. Sam's hands moved up to hold onto Dean's shirt, and Dean's moved to either side of his brother's face, swiping away the tears with his thumbs as they continued a bit longer.

Then Dean pulled away, slowly opening his eyes on Sam's. "How often to you come across the chance at a second first-kiss, huh?" he asked almost in a whisper. "I love you so much, Sammy." Sam let out a breath sounding somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as more tears dropped from his lids. "Hey, baby, don't cry," he smiled, though concerned, and get wiping the tears from Sam's cheeks.

"Oh god, have you been calling me that all this time?" Sam let out a watery laugh and swiped at his own cheeks.

"Kind of," Dean blushed.

"And I haven't taken a swing?"

"You seemed to like it," he countered, raising his brows.

Sam looked at him as he considered this. "The sex must be pretty awesome, then."

"Bet your fuckin' ass," he gruffly replied, and watched Sam's pupils dilate just a bit.

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips, the right back in. "It's not fair."

"Sam..."

"I wish we could leave now," he said. "I wish we could have another second first-something." The implication was clear, and Dean wasn't sure how to respond without something completely inappropriate. But then they were interrupted.

Dr. House cleared his throat as he entered. "Guys, I just wanted to let you know that we're preparing for your transfer to recovery, and I'm making sure you get a bed, Dean. As much as I know you love that chair..."

"Thanks, doc," he replied, glancing over to him for a moment, then back to Sam. "Just a few more days until we can do second firsts all you want, Sam..."


	8. Chapter 8

Two days went by. Two days, and two excruciating nights of intense dreams that would leave Sam hot and horny as hell in the morning, with no privacy to even relieve himself. But now he was waking up in a not-ICU room, not surrounded by nurses changing out his IV (which he no longer needed since he could keep everything down) while he tried to hide his enormous hard-on. Now that he could make his way to the bathroom, that is.

Sam looked to his right toward the bed where Dean was sleeping, now. Or supposed to be sleeping, anyway. His eyes were open and looking right back at Sam's, though.

"Mornin', Sammy," he said with a small smile. Sam just looked at him, fondly. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that, other than the obvious white hospital walls and the smell of antiseptic and...whatever the hell that smell was that screamed 'hospital', Dean's bed was closest to the door, and it was kind of like every hotel room they'd ever shared. "You okay?" Dean's voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Yeah," he replied, then cleared his throat. "Just...need to use the bathroom," he moved to sit up.

"Need some help?" Dean sat up as well.

"I think I can do it," he replied, moving to stand, wavering a bit when his right arm reminded him that it was still weak. Dean was at his side in a flash. "Maybe a little..."

"Not a problem," he gently took hold of Sam's arm. "Still feel weak?" he squeezed the arm.

"Yeah. Didn't expect it to be, still."

"It's weird. I'm sure it'll stop soon, though."

"Yeah...I guess," Sam's head hung a bit as they walked. He looked frustrated.

"You sure you're okay, Sam?" Dean asked again as they reached the door to the restroom.

"I um..." Sam swallowed.

Dean realized in that moment, the tenting of the front of Sam's gown, and after a moment the lines on his forehead went away when he understood. "Oh..." Sam looked away and Dean could see the blush rising to his cheeks. "Hey, man, don't be all shy about it. You've been cooped up here for days. It's bound to happen."

"It's not that. It's...the dreams," his face turned back a bit, though his eyes didn't quite meet Dean's.

Dean's chin turned up slightly in understanding. "Well...I mean, whatever the reason, no reason to be embarrassed about. Nothing I haven't seen already," he smirked, but only for a second, realizing maybe it wasn't fair that Sam didn't remember that part apart from the dreams. "I can leave if that makes it easier for you to...do your thing..."

"It's not..." Sam shook his head as if to clear it. "My hand..." his brows furrowed, a bit embarrassed and a little bit more desperate.

"Oh... Oh!" Dean finally caught on. "You uh...would you wanna...I mean...do you want help? Shit sorry I shouldn't have-"

"Please," came out in a rush as if Sam were sitting on the edge of his seat waiting for the offer.

"Yeah...yeah, Sammy, I'd love to," Dean's heart sped up and he quickly helped him into the restroom, shutting and locking the door behind them. He turned to face Sam, seeing his shy but more than willing expression as he leaned back on the sink basin. "You sure?" he asked, stepping close. Sam nodded quickly. "If I make you uncomfortable...you tell me right away, okay?" Sam only nodded again, breath picking up a bit in anticipation.

He watched Dean's eyes until he had to look down at where his hands had come up to gently grip Sam's arms.

"Can I kiss you again, Sam?" he asked, almost whispering.

Sam answered by closing the distance between them, hands moving up onto either side of Dean's neck as Dean's hands closed around Sam's waist. He moaned into the kiss. Dean's mouth was still fairly new to him and he wanted to savor every moment of this, no matter what the future held for his memory.

He felt one of Dean's hands leave his waist and didn't feel it again until it rested over his heart, slowly traveling to graze a thumb over his nipple through the gown. The sent a jolt through his body and straight to his groin and he couldn't hold back the moan into his brother's mouth.

Dean couldn't describe the joyous feeling within him in words. Not really. But he was going to try.

"God, Sammy...missed this so much..." he told him, trailing his hand down over his chest and stomach and toward his crotch. "Missed hearing you...kissing you...touching you," he said as he reached his destination, rubbing his palm down and back up again, and Sam let out a groan as his face shifted and moved into the crook of Dean's neck, his hands moving to Dean's biceps to hold on. "Yeah, baby...gonna take care of you..."

"Dean..." he panted, and Dean could feel the hot puffs of breath on his neck. "Please..."

"Yeah, I've got you, Sammy," his hands traveled around to the back of the gown, quickly pulling the ties free and slipping the gown completely off of him, and tossing it onto the closed toilet lid.

Sam was blushing again, standing completely naked in front of Dean. It was as if he didn't know what to do next, and Dean couldn't help but to smile at how tragically adorable that was.

"Turn around," he told him, and Sam looked confused, so Dean helped him to turn and pointed out the long mirror that stood over the sink. Long enough to see everything below the waist, and tall enough to see both of their faces. "So you can see everything. Don't want you to miss a thing," he said as he pressed up against his back. Instinctively, Sam's hands gripped the edge of the sink for support. As Dean's hands slipped back onto his waist, he pressed his mouth to Sam's ear for a gentle kiss. "Still okay?" he asked, making certain this is what Sam wanted.

"Yes. Please, Dean...Please..." his eyes bore into Dean's in their reflection. Dean reached for the little pink lotion dispenser on the wall beside the sink, pumping some into his right hand before he reached down and wrapped it around Sam's cock. Sam hissed at the sudden cold, but it didn't effect his erection negatively at all. "Hmm, I'll have to remember that for later," Dean commented before he stroked down to the base and then up to the very tip, stroking his thumb over the leaking slit. "So fucking hard and leaking for me already, baby," he moaned before nipping down on Sam's bare shoulder. He felt Sam's whole body shudder against him, eyes falling closed at the sensory overload. "Gonna come pretty fast, aren't you..."

"De..."

"Open your eyes," he told him before flicked his tongue out to taste his ear lobe before sucking it into his mouth.

Sam watched this, felt every single part of Dean that touched him. He could feel his brother's erection through the denim Dean still wore, bulge pressing against Sam's ass as if it belonged there. His eyes traveled down to where Dean's hand sped up its motion on his cock, and he could hear something; a keening, almost whining sound before Dean's free hand came up over Sam's mouth and he realized that the sound had been coming from him.

"Sshh, little brother," Dean whispered, and Sam was yelling out with his release, sounds muffled by Dean's palm, as his come hit the mirror and interior of the sink. Dean bit his bottom lip as he watched Sam come apart in his arms, the view perfect in the mirror. "So fucking hot, Sammy," he told him, continuing to work Sam through the spasms until he was completely spent, eyes drooping.

Dean reached for the toilet paper and swiped the come from the mirror before wiping off his own hand, and Sam turned around to face him as he threw the paper into the trash. Dean moaned into Sam's mouth when Sam crushed them together, devouring him; a gracious gesture in return of the favor. Then Dean felt his hand moving down toward his crotch. Dean grabbed onto his wrist to stop him.

"You don't have to do that, Sam."

"I...want to," Sam replied, looking almost wounded by being stopped.

"Baby, you don't know how much I want you to," Dean told him, "But you...really suck at left-handed hand-jobs," he smirked. "And this wasn't supposed to be about me. You're still sick, and you shouldn't have even been on your feet this long. Look at you; you're barely standing up right now." Sam still looked disappointed as he looked down. "Sammy," Dean took his face in his hands and made him look him in the eye. "When we get outta here, we're gonna do so much of every crazy sex thing we can think up, we might actually end up right back in here with all different kinds of problems." Sam almost smiled, but not quite. "But right now, I'm gonna help you back into bed, and go lie down in my own, and I'm not gonna take care of this," he gestured to the bulge in his pants. "You wanna know why?" he asked as he grabbed Sam's gown and started putting it back onto his brother. "Because the next time I get off, it's gonna be with some part of you wrapped around me, or in me, or whatever you wanna do," he whispered as he reached around and tied the gown closed.

Sam shuddered again, the knowledge that Dean wasn't just gonna rub one out himself here in the bathroom with him, somewhat easing. "I wanna leave now," Sam said impatiently.

Dean smiled. "You don't know how much I wish I could break us outta here. But I'm not risking you, Sam. If we left and something happened because of it, I could never forgive myself. And you know me, I can hold a grudge."

Sam nodded, accepting that fully. He let Dean lead him back to his bed and even let him tuck him in before pulling him down for another kiss. "I love you, Dean," Sam told him.

"Love you too, Sammy," Dean replied, wanting nothing more than to just crawl up into bed beside him and hold him until it was all over.

But then there was someone coming into the room with trays of food. "Breakfast, gentlemen," the seemingly cheery woman said. "You supposed to be outta bed?" she asked, looking at Dean.

"I'm not exactly...ya know...officially admitted," he told her.

"According to the breakfast schedule you are," she said with raised brows. "So if you wanna eat, I suggest you follow the rules," she said only partly playfully.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting go of Sam's hand and moving over to his bed. He shared a long look with Sam as the woman set their trays in front of them. This was gonna be a long couple more days...


	9. Chapter 9

A couple more days...

It would've been, anyway, if Sam didn't wake up in the middle of the night nearly screaming.

Dean was violently thrown out of his sleep at the horrid sound, and it took mere seconds to realize it was coming from Sam. Dean was up out of his own bed and over to Sam's before he was awake enough to remember where they were. "Sammy!" he grasped onto his brother's arms as Sam's hands were pressing against his own head, eyes screwed shut in obvious pain. "Sam, baby, can you hear me?" he asked, voice shaking as badly as his hand as he repeatedly punched the call button for the nurse.

"Guh..." Sam grunted through panting breaths. "D'n...h-hurts..."

"What happened?" the nurse, Carol was her name, Dean remembered, quickly rushed into the room.

"It's his head. He says it hurts real bad," Dean told her, worriedly. "Can you give him something?"

"Let me get the doctor," she said quickly as she rushed out of the room. That didn't sit well with Dean at all.

He turned back to Sam, placing a hand on his chest as he leaned down. "Gotta breathe, Sammy," he told him. Sam let out a breath in a sob, sucking in another breath and holding it. "It's gonna be okay," he tried to reassure him, placing his other hand on the top of Sam's head, fingers brushing up against Sam's. "Doctor's comin' to check you out, and it'll be okay."

"H'rts bad, De- please...make...make it stop..."

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry," he kissed his hair right beside the bandage where they'd done the biopsy.

Before he even could register it, the room flooded with people. Doctor and nurse staff alike, all ready to move Sam. Dean panicked.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"We need to get Sam into CT asap," the doctor told him. "He may have a complication from the biopsy."

The breath left Dean for a moment and he bent back down to Sam's ear before they could take him away. "Sammy, I love you..." his voice shook.

"De..." Sam's voice started to relax and Dean realized they'd given him a shot of something. "Love you..."

Dean fought tears as he watched them wheel his bed out of the room. He fought them until he was alone, and then he let himself freak the hell out.

Making a Winchester freak out was a pretty big accomplishment in itself. They'd seen a lot in their lifetime. Too much, really. More than a person should be able to handle physically or emotionally. And really, it had been too much. Hell, they'd died. Apparently on several occasions, even. They'd seen and experienced some of the most bizarre crap known and unknown to man. But there was only one thing that could made Dean Winchester freak out. One thing that could turn him from totally collected, and twist him into a pit of helplessness, rendering him unable to process thoughts or have control over his emotional state. And that was Sam. Sam hurting. Sam sick or in pain or bleeding. Sam hurt in a way that Dean could do nothing about.

When Sam was killed by that psycho Jake, Dean had been ready to go with him. He'd been ready to take himself out, just waiting for Bobby to leave him alone so he could do it. Making a deal with a demon wasn't something he was willing to do before then. It was never an option sitting on the back-burner, "just in case". But he got desperate. He got scared. He got terrified. Death didn't necessarily mean he'd be back with his brother. Didn't really mean anything would happen. There was no guarantee. And if he was willing to off himself, he decided he was damn well willing to sell his soul to bring Sam back.

Fact was, Dean couldn't live without Sam. End of story...

Sam got hurt just as much, if not more, than Dean did. More often than not, hospitals were out of the question, and Dean would be the one fixing him up, sewing him back together, nursing him through pain-induced fevers, waking him up to make sure he still knew his name if he had a concussion. Dean fixed Sam, no matter what it was that was broken. No matter how impossible it should've been for a guy who dropped out of high school and only ever stepped foot on college grounds to rid of something supernatural. Or to retrieve his brother...

But this was Sam's brain.

Sam's brain was what set him apart from Dean and their dad. He'd playfully made fun of him for that brain, praised him for it, relied on it and had been saved from it over and over again.

But Dean could not fix it if it was broken.

He had no deals left, as he'd contemplated and concluded before this. He could only leave the one person he loved the most on this planet, the one thing keeping him from losing himself, in the hands of someone else. He didn't even like leaving his brother's stitches up to someone else.

Oh god...why is it so hard to breathe?

"Sir, are you okay?" a woman's voice sounded somewhere beside him.

He couldn't think. There was too much swimming around in his head and it was getting hard to make room for anything else. He shook his head. "They took Sam," he said, not looking at her.

"Yes, Sir, they took him for a CT and we've called Dr. Dunker in. The neurosurgeon that did the biopsy." If he'd been able to pay attention to his surroundings, he'd have seen her cautiously approaching him. "You should lie down," she told him. "I know I'm not your usual nurse, but I know that you and your husband are here being treated for HSE, and I know that he is in good hands with our team."

"Being in good hands doesn't mean he's okay," Dean realized that he was shaking. He jumped when he felt her hand on his arm.

"I'm concerned about how you're breathing right now, Mr. Grovkowski, Can you at least sit down for me?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," he grunted. "I'm getting precautionary treatment, that's all. I'm fine." He grunted again, but this time it was at the sudden pain in his chest.

"Mr. Grovkowski!" she said more sternly, then forced him to the bed to sit. He went without a fight at that point, momentarily distracted by the frightening feeling of how hard his heart was beating. He was vaguely aware of her shouting out for someone to help.

He couldn't breathe. Nausea hit him like a cloud of steam. His vision began to tunnel. He was dying. He was pretty much sure of it.

Funny thing was, that final thought before drifting into unconsciousness was that it was okay. If he was gonna lose Sam, then this? This...was okay...


	10. Chapter 10

Dean hadn't expected to wake up.

He especially hadn't expected to wake up in the same bed, without having all kinds of crap hooked up to him or something. His hand came up to his face when he felt something on it.

"It's a nasal cannula," Dr. House's voice sounded beside him, and Dean looked over to see him seated beside the bed, obviously having come in a little early at the news. "Oxygen."

"What happened?" Dean asked, momentarily confused.

"You had a panic attack," he replied. "Pretty big one." Dean shook his head, looking away. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Dean. It happens. You were worried about Sam. It was scary waking up to that."

And suddenly Dean was freaking out again, the machine beside him that he hadn't known was there started beeping as his heart rate increased. He looked back over to the doctor. "Sam..."

"Sam is okay," the doctor assured him.

"But he ain't back here," Dean argued.

"He's in surgery," House informed him, and when Dean's eyes widened in panic, he continued, "There was a small bleed, and they're getting it fixed up. He's gonna be okay."

Dean stared up at the ceiling as he tried to calm himself down. "How much more, doc? Huh?" he asked. "How much more does he have to go through? He's done so much good in this world that no one will ever know about, and what does he get in return? A rare illness brought on my a damn mosquito... His life hanging in the balance because our insect repellant expired. Tell me how it's fair. Tell me why I gotta sit here wondering if the only thing I care about in this whole world is gonna ever leave this hospital?"

"Everyone that ends up here or any hospital wonders that."

"Well he ain't everyone," his voice shook. "And he doesn't even remember...God...I need to get outta here," he said, pulling the cannula off of his face and moving to sit up.

"You should stay," the doctor told him. "You're probably exhausted."

"I'm going crazy sitting here waiting," he countered, pulling off the leads stuck to him for monitoring, and the machine alarmed.

House turned off the monitor. "And where are you gonna go? It's four in the morning."

"I dunno. Take a drive. Clear my head."

"And if something happens and we need you?" he raised a brow.

"Then you've got my number," he replied after a moment. "I'm comin' back. I would never leave him. But I need some time to myself outside of these walls or I'm gonna have a nervous breakdown and I can't promise I won't take someone down with me..."

.~*~.

Dean drove.

He had no idea where the hell he was going. In fact, he had stopped at some point and started heading back. Passed the hospital, and kept going. He drove.

The sun had come up at some point. He didn't really notice. He didn't notice anything, really, until the gas light came on in the car. Then he stopped.

The gas station was kind of small and in the middle of this nowhere place he'd ended up. Well, not a nowhere place. There were other things around it. Small mom and pop shops everywhere, in strips of stores that lined the one-lane road he'd somehow managed to end up on.

As he pumped gas, he glanced directly across the street. A jewelry store. He watched as a couple came walking out of it holding hands and smiling at one another. He didn't think much about it.

Dean went inside to pay the cashier and glanced back across the street, and something suddenly just...clicked in his head. Like the awareness that had been so cut off since Sam's cries of agony that morning, suddenly came back again. The darkness of hopelessness that had been blanketed around him had suddenly vanished and he could finally see.

He wasn't sure why, really. It just happened, like some part of him knew Sam was gonna be okay. In all logical reasoning, there was no way to know whether this feeling was true or not. Not without going back to see what was going on, if anything. But for some reason, his gut...no...his heart was telling him that Sam was going to be okay.

Dean walked across the street.

.~*~.

Greg stood outside of the Grovkowski's room with his cell to his ear, waiting for Dean to pick up.

"Yeah," his voice sounded on the other end when he finally picked up.

"Wanted to make sure you were still alive," he said with raised brows, "And to let you know that Sam is out of recovery. Surgery was successful and his vitals are normal. He'll probably be waking up soon, and I thought it'd be good if you were here when he did."

"Be there in five," he replied quickly, and the line cut out. Greg shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked into the room at Sam. He made a small smile to himself, hoping Dean would like what he'd arranged.

Dean was there in the time he'd told Greg he would be. Back in his regular clothes, Greg was reminded that Dean was only admitted for precautionary reasons. Not that he'd forgotten that, but seeing him without the gown made it seem like he shouldn't really even be there.

Greg met him right as he walked into their room, Dean stopping once he entered, and looking at the different bed Sam was in now. That and the lack of Dean's.

"We uh..." Greg cleared his throat, "We needed the regular bed. Ran out," he lied. "So I arranged for Sam to have our oversized one. Figured you could share. You know...just until we have another open bed..."

Dean didn't look away from the massive bed. It was one of those beds they had for morbidly obese patients. Sometimes Sam got one anyway, just because it was a giant and his feet would end up hanging off the end, otherwise. But Dean knew what Greg was doing, and he wanted to hug the man.

So he did.

Greg was a little surprised at first, but let out a laugh as he returned the hug. "You're welcome. Now get to bed. Careful of the IV line, and when he wakes up, don't let him move his head around a whole lot."

"Thanks, man," Dean pulled away, nodding at him in gratitude. Greg just gave him a smile and watched him as he toed off his boots and climbed into the bed, carefully, and curled up beside Sam, his hand taking hold of his brother's as he laid his head on the pillow and just watched his sleeping face.

He was on Sam's left side, and could see where they'd shaved part of his head ending right beneath where the bandage covered. It made him a little sad. As much as he'd picked on Sam's hair over their lifetime, seeing it go was a little heart-wrenching. But hair grew back. All that mattered was Sam getting better.

.~*~.

Sam woke to the feeling of fingers gently running over the hair near the back of his neck. He smelled Dean before realizing his hand was being held, fingered laced through fingers. He opened his eyes and looked down to his hand, first. Dean's held onto his on the small space of mattress between them, his free hand lying up over Sam's shoulder and playing with the hair beneath the bandage.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Dean smirked.

"Hey...what happened?" he asked groggily. "Why are aren't you in your own bed?"

"You had a complication from the biopsy," Dean told him, hand moving to Sam's neck to rest there as his thumb brushed at the jawline. "It's all taken care of, now. And I had to give up my bed. We gotta share this Bigfoot-compatible one."

"Funny," Sam snorted. "Wait...complication?" his brows furrowed worriedly.

"It's all gonna be okay," Dean said, moving his hand to Sam's chest and rubbing through the gown, comfortingly. "There was a bleed and they fixed it. Only problem is they had to shave some of your hair, but it'll grow back."

Sam's hand went up to his head and Dean led it down to the spot where there was a revealed portion of shaved scalp. "Guess I'll have to shave the rest... Probably looks stupid."

"You could never look stupid, Sammy," Dean leaned in to peck him on the mouth. "Unless maybe we dyed your hair purple."

Sam made a face somewhere in the middle of amused and worried. "What's with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're...acting really...not like you."

"Oh," Dean looked off to the side for a moment. "Yeah uh...I dunno, Sam. I may have had a little nervous breakdown earlier," he admitted, meeting his eyes again. "But I'm okay, now. Maybe a little tired, and I guess I'm just...happy that you're awake. That...you're okay."

Sam looked at him for a long moment, then his lips formed a soft smile. "I'm not going down without a fight," he told him, carefully shifting so that he laid on his side facing his brother. "Not gonna leave you."

"Better not," Dean whispered, and Sam could see the exhaustion in his eyes. He moved a bit closer to kiss him, just for a moment, before settling back into the softness of the pillow, then pulled Dean closer to him, allowing and encouraging him to snuggle up. "'m so tired," Dean told him as his head burrowed into Sam's neck.

"Go to sleep," Sam replied. "'m not going anywhere..."


	11. Chapter 11

Dean was beyond grateful that the incident with the bleed hadn't caused any further damage or problems. He was overjoyed when it had only delayed their being able to leave by a day.

He'd gotten them packed up and ready to head out, and now they were just waiting on their discharge papers and medications to take out with them. Dean sank down on the edge of Sam's bed to sit beside his brother. He turned and smiled at him. Sam could sense buzzing energy in him and it made him shake his head and smile back.

"What're you so happy about?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean replied. "We're getting outta here, finally."

"Okay," Sam shrugged, accepting the explanation, though it seemed there was something else on his mind.

"Actually," Dean continued, "There was something I wanted to give you, and I was waiting for the right time. You know how they all think we're married, on account of our last names being the same and all?" Sam nodded. "Well, Greg said something the other day." He stopped and shook his head, pulling a small velvet bag out of his pocket. "Anyway, when you were in having surgery, I kinda wigged out a little and took a drive. Ended up needing to fuel up the car, and across the street from the station, there was this shop. All of a sudden it's like...everything became totally clear, ya know? Like everything was gonna be okay. I dunno if it was the store, really, or if was just a coincidence. But that's what happened.

"So I ended up going in there and getting you something," he told him, handing the bag over to his slightly confused looking brother. Sam took it and only looked away from Dean to tip the bag over in his hand and allow its contents to fall into his palm. "You might not want it. I mean...I know you don't remember the past couple months, so this is all new to you and everything. And I thought about waiting, you know, to see if you remembered eventually. Or maybe even waiting until you might be at the same point- or uh...that didn't come out right. I mean...waiting until you felt like I do...or uh..."

"Dean," Sam stopped him. "This is a ring," he said without looking away from the silver circle pinched between his fingers.

"Yeah, I...I'm sorry," he shook his head, suddenly feeling stupid. "I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that-"

"Do you mean it?" Sam interjected, looking over at him, then, his voice quieted by emotion. "You really love me that much?"

Dean took a breath as he considered the enormity of the question. "Sammy, sometimes it scares me, how much I love you..." He itched to grab onto Sam's hand and hold onto it for dear life. He had no idea what Sam was thinking right now, and he hoped like hell it wasn't scaring him away.

"Is this," he cleared his throat, "Is this like...part of a costume to keep up appearances?"

"Uh," Dean started to panic a bit. This was so much more serious than that, but he wasn't sure if it would make things awkward if he told him the truth. But he couldn't keep it in. He couldn't not tell him. "No, Sam. That's not it at all. I wanted to, you know, make it a little more real. I mean, to the outside world. And I was thinking I could, if you wanted I mean, put my ring on my left hand now, and then we could avoid being hit on in bars and stuff, because it'd be more obvious, you know...that we're taken... That's what I was thinking. But it's okay if you're not ready..."

He watched Sam as he looked at the ring, moving it between his fingers as if it was the most intricate thing he'd ever seen. "Dean...I know there's time missing for me; that I don't remember how we even started into this relationship. I want to remember. I want that so much, and I hate that I can't. But I...Dean, I've loved you more than anything...for so long," he looked back over at his brother, unshed tears in his eyes. "I've wanted to be with you...wanted that for so long. Having it like this seems so unreal."

"I understand..."

"But even without knowing what we've had," he continued, "I'll wear this ring. I'd be honored to. I'll wear it forever, Dean..."

Hopeful, wide, green eyes looked into Sam's. "Really?" he said in a breath.

"You really willing to give up unattached drifter Christmas for me?" he smiled, wetly.

Dean smiled back, hands going to either side of Sam's face. "I'd give up anything for you, Sam." Then he closed the distance between them, crushing his lips to Sam's. Just for a moment, though, before pulling back and reaching down to take his hand. "Can I?" he asked as he took the ring. Sam held his left hand out to him, allowing Dean to slip the ring onto his finger. Then he took off his own ring and handed it to Sam, holding out his own left hand. Sam took it and slipped it onto Dean's left ring finger, then looked up at his brother's wet eyes.

In their own strange Winchester way, they'd just gotten married. Well, as married as they were ever gonna be able to be. And they didn't need it to be anything more or official, rather. It was real to them, and that's what counted. Dean really wished that Sam could remember their relationship leading up to this point. But knowing that Sam really did love him this much before all the insanely awesome sex stuff, amazed him beyond comprehension.

.~*~.

Sam couldn't stop smiling. He was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean putting their bags in the trunk, as he stared down at the new piece of jewelry on his finger. This was kind of crazy, really. Sam knew they'd been together for a couple of months, but could only remember the past few days of it. Even if he could remember it all, a couple of months of being together this way shouldn't technically be enough time to come to this major of a decision.

Yet nothing had ever felt more right in all his life. He couldn't explain it. It's one of those things other people wouldn't understand, once they knew how long they'd been together. Or how little, in this case. But they didn't really know. They couldn't know how much they loved each other; how long they'd loved each other without ever having revealed it in its entirety. This was enormous and completing and Sam, even without the memories of their past, still felt it like a burning, glowing ember embedded in his chest.

The ring, though... Even though it gave him this thick giddy feeling he'd never felt so strongly before, didn't seem like a Dean Winchester thing to do. Sam gave presents...like an amulet or a bracelet that might not have originally been intended for Dean. Dean gave...surprise fireworks and drives to the middle-of-nowhere best spot to see the stars. The ring didn't seem like an idea that would be thought up by his brother. Not unless there was some huge reasoning behind the only actual reason he'd want to. Of course, there was a lot he didn't remember, so it was kind of up for debate.

"Dean?" Sam looked over as his brother slid into the driver seat and shut the door. "Is this... Did you get me this because you thought I was gonna...die?" he raised his furrowed brows.

Dean paused then, hand on the keys in the ignition, and turned to look at Sam. "That what you think?" he looked hurt. "Really?"

"No," he shook his head. "I just thought...I mean I don't know, Dean. I just don't want you to feel...obligated. Or ya know...regretful." He couldn't meet his eyes.

"I told you, Sam. You don't want this, you don't have to-"

"I do want this," he met his eyes again. "I just...God, Dean, I know how I feel about you," he said as his eyes became wet again. "I know how much I love you. But I don't remember anything about us. I don't remember any conversations we've had, if we've had them. I know I'm ready to give up whatever I have to, to be with you."

"You think I'm not?" Dean raised his brows.

"That's not what I'm saying."

"It sounds like that's what you're saying. That I don't have to ability to be monogamous."

"I didn't say you weren't capable, Dean, please stop putting words in my mouth."

"Well excuse me for feeling like you don't think very highly of me!"

"Godamnit, Dean, all I'm trying to say is that I don't remember! I don't know if you really wanna give up part of who you are; waitresses at shoddy bars and stuff.." he regretted the words; the whole conversation, now, and wished he could turn back time and not have started it.

"Wow," Dean shook his head, looking out the windshield, then started the car.

"Come on, man. You know that as far as my brain is remembering, before I woke up in this hospital you were eye-fucking every aesthetically pleasing girl with a license to serve liquor, and calculating what to say in order to get her back to a room. I'm not trying to tell you to convince me that you've changed," he shook his head. "I'm just trying to tell you that I have no idea what's going on!"

"I love you, Sam!" he shouted. "What the fuck is so hard to understand about that, huh?"

"I love you, too, Dean!" he replied. "I love you more than anything, and I know that you love me. But I know you love other things. I know you love this car and pie and easy women, especially if they love your car and pie, too. And I would never ever ask you to give up any of those things if it meant you'd end up resenting me..."

Dean bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Sam had a point. He really did. But Dean felt...attacked. He could in no way refuse his past. But damnit, he'd been reassuring Sam for months. He'd only been with Sam. There was no one else. He didn't need to prove anything, then. They'd just...fallen into place like that's what they were supposed to be doing. Like the booze and women were a poor substitute that he had always needed to overindulge in regularly, just to make up for the fact that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. And once they fell into place together, none of that other stuff mattered.

Dean knew that. But Sam...he didn't remember any of it. Getting angry...being angry wasn't the right response. So he needed, instead, to force himself to be patient. But first he needed to stop feeling like he'd just been called the most prospectively horrible boyfriend/husband on the planet, so he could figure out a way to explain things.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he threw the car into gear and pulled out of the hospital parking lot, he could see the reflection of light hitting the tear-streaked face of the man sitting beside him.

Now he just felt like a dick...


	12. Chapter 12

It only took five minutes to get to the efficiency Dean had rented for them. It was a little nicer than what they were used to, looking at it from the outside. Dean had only called about it and paid it up over the phone for the next month.

They hadn't said anything after the argument. It'd been painfully quiet all the way, and Sam was at least grateful that it was a short trip. But he still felt awful for having said anything, and he wanted to apologize without it sounding insincere. So when Dean pulled up to the office and went in to pick up their key, Sam straightened up and prepared himself to say something before Dean got back into the car.

"Dean, look...I'm sorry," he started before Dean could start the engine again. "I didn't mean for what I said to come out sounding the way it did, and-"

"It's okay, Sam," Dean stopped him before he could continue. "I get it. I really do." There was no anger in Dean's response, and Sam had to swallow down the lump in his throat as he didn't know what else to say.

Dean drove them around to the back, where their room was, and they both got out of the car once he parked. Waiting as Dean unlocked the door, Sam's hands were shoved into his pockets and his head hung a bit, feeling like he'd screwed things up. But then, suddenly he felt himself being picked up, Dean's arms cradling behind his knees and around his back, like he was holding a baby.

"Dean, what're you doing?" he shouted, flailing a bit at the awkwardness, and wondering how the hell Dean was able to hold him like this.

"Gotta carry you over the threshold, Sammy," he smirked, then kicked the door the rest of the way open.

Sam stopped flailing and instinctively grabbed steady hold onto Dean's collar as he watched his brother's face. He was so relieved by this simple gesture, he felt tears pricking at his eyes again. He didn't look away from Dean until he felt himself laid down on top of the bed. The room was dark, only a crack of light shining through the curtain.

"Wait here a sec," Dean told him, placing a kiss on his forehead before going back out to get their bags. He pushed back up against the headboard letting out a long breath, noticing the room didn't smell funny like most of them tended to.

God he'd been so tense in the car, and he was so relieved now, it was enough to make him want a nap.

Suddenly the door was closing and the lights came on. Sam watched as Dean tossed their bags onto the chaise in front of the window and headed toward the bed. One king-sized bed, Sam realized then, and his eyes were back on Dean as he began crawling up onto it, right over Sam, straddling his waist before leaning back in to kiss him.

"I know you don't remember," Dean told him between kisses, "But I love you, Sam. More than anything I used to do before we started all this. And if I've gotta prove that to you again, then I will. If I've gotta prove it every single day, I will." He kissed him again, hands supporting as he hovered over his brother.

Sam's hands came up to Dean's face and he deepened the kiss, causing Dean to moan into it, maybe involuntarily pressing his hips down into Sam's. It was Sam's turn to moan, breath rushing out of him at the sensation of his brother's semi-erect cock pressing against his through their jeans. Things started to move along more quickly after that point, heat building before they even realized someone had turned on the burner.

Sam had Dean flipped onto his back, their positions reversed before he knew what was happening, and Sam shoved a hand between them, rubbing and squeezing the length of Dean's now-straining erection, then clawing at the fly to try and open his jeans.

"God, Sammy..." Dean panted. "We should...we should slow down a little..."

"Don't wanna," Sam said before closing his mouth over Dean's again. "I gotta know, Dean. All these flashes I see in my dreams...I wanna know what it feels like... Wanna know what you feel like."

"Fuck, baby, yeah..."

Sam wasn't sure why the endearment affected him so, but it sent shivers through him, made him whimper and thrust down against Dean again. "How do we... I mean, how do we usually do this?" Sam asked, voice shaking as he pulled at his brother's shirt.

"Wha'd'you mean?" he asked as he lifted himself up to tear the shirt off of himself.

"I mean like...who... Which of us is...um..."

"Oh," Dean understood. Sam was asking which one of them was the top or bottom or whatever. "We kinda just...do whatever feels right in the moment. We switch back an' forth. Just depends."

"Oh," Sam watched Dean's hands as they went to Sam's shirt to pull it over his head. "So...what does it feel like, now? What should I do?"

"Whatever feels right, Sammy," he replied, confidently. "It's your rodeo right now, little brother," he tested the endearment, knowing what it did to Sam normally, and was pleased to get the same shivering response now. "Our first first time, well you were doin' most of the work, seein' as I was tied up and all. But technically I was topping. So maybe... I mean...well maybe you can top this first time."

"Really?" Sam breathlessly replied. "God I..." he swallowed, tugging at Dean's pants. "Do we...have stuff? Like...something to..."

"In my duffel," Dean replied. "The inside pocket."

Sam met his eyes again, then pressed his mouth to Dean's for another moment before scrambling off the bed toward Dean's bag. Dean stripped off his jeans while kicking off his boots, tossing them off the end of the bed. Then he looked to Sam, who seemed to be having trouble finding what they needed.

Dean moved off of the bed and squatted down behind Sam, leaning the front of his body against the back of his brother's and felt him shiver again. His hands went to Sam's shoulders and started working their way down his arms. "Need some help?" he asked. "Finding the stuff, I mean," he smirked. Sam nodded, jerkily, and Dean realized that he wasn't just shivering, but shaking. "Baby?" he moved his hands to fold over Sam's chest and held him. "You okay?"

"Uh huh," Sam nodded again.

"I could swear you're freaking out a little."

"I'm just...I'm nervous I guess," he confessed. "But I'm not freaking out. I want this, Dean," he turned his head to meet his brother's eyes. "I wanna make this so good for you, and I feel like every time you touch me I'm about to come and I don't know how the hell I'm even gonna make it to the good parts..."

Dean's cock twitched at the words, and Sam felt it against the small of his back and his breath hitched. "You've got nothin' to worry about," Dean told him, almost whispering. "We've never even had a non-awesome sex session. Doesn't matter if you need to get off before we get started. Hell, sometimes that's just the prerequisite, Sammy." Sam seemed hesitant and skeptical. "Here," Dean urged him to get up. "Take off your pants and get on the bed," he ordered. Well, maybe it wasn't exactly an order, but Sam followed it anyway. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stripped down the rest of his clothes, then looked up at Dean who was standing there with the tube of lube in his hand. "Go ahead and lay back on the pillows," he told him.

Sam swallowed as he crawled on his back up to the pillows and laid down. Dean followed after him, crawling on his knees and moving between Sam's instinctively spread legs. He couldn't take his eyes off of Dean's body. Though somewhere in the back of his mind, he had seen it a thousand times before, he couldn't remember ever seeing it like this; in this context. His hard, thick cock doing its best to strain up and touch his abs made Sam's mouth water. But he was nervous, still, and now he wasn't exactly sure what Dean had planned for them.

"Relax, baby," Dean smiled and lowered himself down to brush his lips with a kiss, hovering so that no other part of him touched Sam. "I'm just gonna help you take some of the edge off," he kissed his cheek, getting closer and closer to his ear as he spoke. "And while I'm doing that, I'm gonna open myself up so good for you," he said, then took Sam's lobe between his teeth.

"Oh god..." Sam groaned, back arching up off the mattress as Dean's hand made a trail down his chest and to his leaking cock.

Dean hummed into Sam's neck, kissing his way down. "Fuck...missed this, baby," he said into his skin. "Missed touching you, smelling you..." he breathed him in, reveling in the way his brother squirmed beneath him.

Sam forced his eyes open as Dean's mouth reached his nipple, and saw that while one of Dean's hands was skillfully working Sam's cock, the other was reached behind himself, working lubed fingers into his opening. Sam's dick jumped at the thought, hips hopping up again from the mattress. His cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed at his inability to control himself, and concentrated on keeping still. But this had been his fantasy for as far back as he could remember. He'd shoved it somewhere far back into the deepest recesses of his mind; far enough that even if he dreamed about it, it'd be from a distance safe enough not to break his heart when he woke up.

When Dean's hot wet mouth wrapped around Sam's cock, the younger brother couldn't hold back the shout that punched out of him. The perfection that was the technique Dean was using on him was proof that he'd done it before. Specifically to him. Enough times that he knew exactly what to do; the suction and movements of his tongue, and just when to pull back...

Sam suddenly wanted to hold on. He didn't care if Dean could keep him hard enough to go again afterward. He needed to hold on, and he was summoning every ounce of will to do so.

"Dean!" he shouted when it was becoming too much to bear. "Stop! Please...stop..."

"Shit, sorry!" Dean jumped off of him immediately, heart pounding in his chest, and mind going in all directions trying to figure out what he'd done. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Fuck, Sammy, I'm sorry!"

"Jesus, Dean! No!" Sam sat up and grabbed Dean's arms. "You didn't hurt me! I just...I don't wanna come yet. That's all... Wanna hold on, and you're...well shit, Dean, you're kind of making it hard. No pun intended," he smirked.

Dean still looked a little shocked, so Sam pressed forward to kiss him, flipping them over so that Dean was now lying on his back with Sam over him. Before Dean could comprehend the sudden turn of events, Sam's fingers were probing his lubed asshole, dipping in experimentally.

"Sam!" he yelped, hips thrusting up and then back down onto his brother's fingers.

"You ready for me?" Sam asked, nipping down at the skin right beneath Dean's ear. He could only nod in response, whimpering a bit as Sam's fingers rubbed up against his sweet spot causing him to bite down on his bottom lip. Sam let out a shuddered breath as Dean squeezed around his fingers, and he gently pulled them out and pushed up onto his knees to kneel as he grabbed the lube.

Dean watched his shaking fingers gather some lube to coat his cock, and he sat up to grab the side of his face. "Don't be nervous, Sam," he assured him. "You're so good at this. So fuckin' good... You don't have to be so nervous." He leaned up to kiss him, feeling he brother melt against him, and he moved his hips up so that Sam could scoot up under him.

Sam's hands, after wiping them on the loose sheet, came up around the back of Dean's shoulders and he kissed him as he slowly lowered him back down to lay on his back. "You'll tell me if I...if I don't do something right?" Sam asked, looking him in the eyes.

"You won't hurt me," Dean replied.

"Just...please..."

"Yeah, Sam," he agreed, just to put him at ease. "Yeah okay. Just come on, already. You're killin' me, here," he smiled and raised a brow.

The expression put Sam a little more at ease, for whatever reason. He lined himself up as Dean pulled his knees in a little more, and began to press into the pink pucker that, for all intents and purposes, seemed suddenly no longer stretched enough for him to fit into. His eyes went back to Dean's, watching for any sign that he might be causing him pain. When he saw nothing but trust and comfort, Sam pressed in further.

The tight, wet heat enveloping him was so intense, Sam was overwhelmed. He had to lay his forehead on Dean's chest, almost on his shoulder, as he continued to push in.

Dean's hands wrapped around Sam's arms and shoulders, grabbing onto the skin of the younger brother's back and trying to keep his own muscles relaxed so he could get all of Sam into him without him stopping. It felt like it'd been an eternity since they'd done this. And though he loved to be the one making Sam fall apart beneath him, there was something about Sam filling him up that did things to him that nothing else could even come close to.

Sam bottomed out with a deep groan, breath hitting Dean's neck. Dean released a breath at how full he felt; how complete in that moment, and his eyes slid closed until he felt Sam pull halfway out and press back in. "Oh god, Sammy," his hand went up into his brother's hair, gripping a handful and tugging. "Feels good."

Sam picked his head up to look at Dean's face, pressing down to kiss him again. He wanted to tell him how good it felt; how amazing and tight and everything he'd imagined and more, but every ounce of his brain power was focused on not shooting his load at the way Dean's anal muscles were near-vibrating around him.

"It's okay, baby," he heard Dean tell him. "Stop holding back. Sometimes...sometimes we just gotta get it out of our systems before we explode."

"Isn't...just about me," Sam panted against Dean's cheek. "Wanna...wanna make you..."

Dean gripped onto his hair again, pulled his head so that his mouth was at his ear, before he whispered through gritted teeth, "If you think I'm not gonna come...baby, I got news for you. Want you to fuck me just like you want to right now," he told him before running his tongue just behind Sam's ear and then nipping down at the skin there.

"Fuck, De..." Sam replied, voice shaking with overwhelming lust before he began to sit up, hooking his arms under Dean's legs behind his knees and angling a bit differently. "Promise you'll...let me prove myself later..."

"You've already proven yourself ten-fold, little brother," Dean told him, then grunted loudly as Sam pulled out and slammed back in, hitting Dean's prostate like a pro. "Jesusfuck!" Dean's head arched back and his hand went to his cock, wrapping his hand around the base to at least keep himself holding on for Sam.

Sam locked on to Dean's face as he fucked into him, watching every shift of his big brother's eyes, every twitch of his lips. He was so determined to get Dean off before him, he wasn't even aware that he was saying Dean's name over and over like a mantra. He swatted Dean's hand away and took hold of Dean's cock, pulling a groan from him as he began stroking in time with his thrusts. "Come on," Sam said on a release of breath. "Come on, Dean..."

Dean's hand slapped down onto the mattress, fist catching a handful of the sheets beneath it. Sam watched his face; watched all of him. And when he felt that first jolting twitch of Dean's cock in his hand, then the sudden twitch of his abs, jerk of his torso, and the pink blush that seemed to supernaturally travel straight up to his neck and face before stripes of white splashed onto his skin, and little convulsing in his shoulders that followed, Sam's head started to spin. And it had nothing to do with the orgasm waiting on the brink. Something was very mind-jarringly familiar about the sight before him.

Flashes of memory started coming to life before his eyes...

"I really like making you come..."

..

"I don't deserve you," Sam said, almost in a whisper.

"Of course you deserve me," Dean's brows furrowed. "We deserve each other, and no one else deserves us. I mean fuck, man..." he shook his head, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Would you?"

..

"What...what are you doing, Dean?"

"I'm kissing you," Dean replied, softly, beside his ear.

"Why are you...kissing me like that?" he asked.

"Because I haven't kissed you in these places, yet," he told him. A shiver ran down Sam's spine, sparking a warm feeling in his stomach. "Don't worry. I'll just worry about your face, for now. Or we'd be here a while."

Sam's hands shot to Dean's arms, and he opened his eyes to meet his brother's, "I don't mind."

..

"What are we doing, Sam?" Dean looked at him, then back to the road. "I mean...do you want this?"

"Was I unclear about what I want, back at the hotel?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"No! I mean...no," Dean said. "I just... This is... This is kinda big," he looked over at him, again.

All frustration left Sam's face. "Yeah, I know. I didn't mean... I mean, I know I said this wouldn't change us. I'm sorry... If you don't want this-"

"Was I unclear about what Iwant, back at the hotel?" Dean retorted.

..

"Ya know," Dean said, "All the years I forced any thoughts or feelings that ever popped into my head about you...and here we are, anyway..."

Sam's head shot in his direction, eyes wide. "What?" his voice cracked. His chest kinda burned, and something in his stomach fluttered with a mixture of disbelief and eternal joy.

"Yeah, I...I wasn't gonna tell you this, because it kinda makes me a freak."

"I've been in love with you since the seventh grade," Sam spat out.

..

Dean's eyes opened, looking directly and deeply into Sam's. His gaze flickered over Sam's face, for a moment, noting his red swollen, spit-slick lips, and met his eyes again. "That was... Sam, that was..."

"Good?" Sam smiled, raising his brows.

"Fucking amazing," Dean corrected, noting the sudden shyness. He brought his hands up to either side of Sam's face, eyes bright and wide as they darted back and forth between Sam's. "You're fucking amazing, Sammy.."

..

"Sam...fuck," Dean said, breathlessly. "Fucking untie my hands," he pleaded. "Just fucking untie them..." And he was grateful that Sam was complying, without arguing, because he didn't think he could go another minute without-

His hands were suddenly free, and he pulled them in front of him, ignoring the slight ache from having been held in that position for who knows how long, and immediately sought to grab onto both sides of Sam's face. He moved him into view, and their eyes met, searchingly, before Dean drew him in and crushed his lips to Sam's...

..

"This isn't gonna hurt us.."

..

"I love you..."

..

"Love you so much, Sammy."

..

"More than anything..."

..

"Sam!" Dean's hands were on his shoulders, squeezing, eyes wide with concern. "Sammy, talk to me!" his voice shook.

Sam's hands shot to Dean's face, realizing they were both breathing hard. "I'm okay," he told him. "Dean...I...I remember..."

Dean didn't understand at first. All he could think about was the fact that Sam had effectively 'checked out' for a minute, unresponsive when he'd been repeatedly calling his name. But Sam's eyes were wet and bore into Dean's, a smile beginning to play on his face. And that's when Dean started to get what he was saying.

"I remember, Dean. I remember everything," his voice cracked and a tear escaped him, trailing down his cheek at the amount of relief that swept through him.

"Yeah?" Dean breathed. Sam nodded, almost laughing. "Just like that?" his hands moved to Sam's neck. "Guess sex with me really is therapeutic," he smirked, trying to play down how absolutely overwhelmed with joy that he was...


	13. Chapter 13

They were both laid out on the bed on their sides, facing each other. Just looking. Their breath lost from the homecoming sex had long caught up with them, but the joy...the relief at the returning of Sam's memory was still strong enough to take it away again.

Dean wasn't sure what his brother was thinking about in that moment. It didn't matter, really. As long as the thoughts were coming alongside the memories of the past two months together, he didn't care. Well, he did care, of course. It did matter. But he was certain by the look of happiness in Sam's eyes, that everything was okay.

"We're married," Sam said, a smile blossoming on his face as he continued his gaze into his brother's eyes.

"Yeah," Dean replied with a breathy laugh. "Well, not like...officially or anything, but yeah."

"We're brothers," the corners of Sam's mouth twitched for a moment, and Dean suddenly felt an ache in his chest. But before he could start to properly panic, Sam continued, "You're okay with this? I mean...I know that we're the only ones that know both things, for the most part. But...this is really what you want?" he looked hopeful at him, and Dean's heart lifted.

"Of course it is," he smiled, hand seeking out Sam's without looking away from his face. "You know this was never just about the sex. I wanna be with you; not anybody else. That's not gonna change, so why not?"

Sam drew in a breath, threading their fingers together as he smiled. "I love you so much, Dean," he told him, almost whispering.

"I love you, too," Dean replied. "Hell, you've turned me into a girl and I'm not even all that mad about it. Not right now, anyway," he shrugged. "Ten seconds left before the chick-flick train leaves the station, Sammy. So if you've got anything else you need to get out, get it out now."

Sam smirked before pulling his hand free of Dean's and placing it on the side of Dean's face before moving forward to press a soft, passionate kiss on his lips. He kissed back as gently for a while, their lips moving like a perfectly choreographed dance. Dean let it go on for well past the ten seconds, he was sure, and then moved forward a bit, himself, deepening the kiss, making it rougher as he pushed over until he was on top of Sam.

Sam moaned beneath him, legs falling apart to make room for Dean between them. Dean felt as Sam's arms snaked around his back, large hands splaying over his shoulder blades, and one then trailing down his spine to settle on the small of his back.

"Mmm," he groaned into the kiss as he pressed his hips up into Dean's. "Can't get enough of you," he told him, his cock hardening between them.

Dean hummed a laugh, face dropping into the crook of Sam's neck.

"What?" Sam half-smiled, eyes closing as he felt Dean breathing in the scent of him.

"Nothin'," Dean replied, quietly. "Just...I was thinkin' that same thing, when you said it." He ran his lips over the skin under Sam's ear, brushing it as he spoke, "No matter how much I touch you, or how much you touch me, I just keep wanting more and more."

"Thought the chick-flick moment was over," Sam moaned as Dean's teeth grazed that same patch of skin.

"Nothin' chick-flick about the x-rated things I have planned for you," Dean growled, biting down on Sam's shoulder before making his way down his brother's body.

Sam let out a breathy moan, eyes closing as his head pressed back into the pillow, reveling in the feel of his brother's mouth leaving hot, wet trails down his chest. His hips rolled up almost involuntarily, pressing his ever-rebounding erection against Dean's stomach, as Dean's mouth closed over Sam's nipple. He felt Dean press back down against Sam's cock as if assuring him that he knew about it, and that he'd get there eventually.

Sex with Dean was the most fulfilling sex Sam had ever experienced. From that first time, and every time after, it had always meant more to him than any other sexual encounter; it had always been so much better. And it just seemed to get continuously better; no matter how fast or slow, or how many times they made each other come in one 'session', the sex was always even better the next time.

Maybe it was psychological. Maybe it was just that each time they did it, it seemed brand new (and that wasn't even counting when he had amnesia). But the fact remained, there was no one else Sam could ever even think about doing this with ever again. Everyone else, every other moment of passion, was just a mere faded Polaroid in a shoe box shoved somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, there only as a reminder that what he had now was so much more.

Dean loved putting his mouth on his brother. It didn't matter where, really. He just loved it; the way he smelled and the way he tasted and the way he moved when Dean touched. He loved touching him with his fingers, too, of course. Those two things were quite likely tied, actually. Two senses to each action; yeah. They were tied. Maybe... He'd have to test it out. No problem there.

See, with his mouth, with his face so close to his skin like that, he could smell and taste at the same time; just close his eyes and go to town. With his fingers, he could touch, and he could see from that bit of distance, how Sam reacted to it, unlike when his mouth was on him and his eyes closed because everything was blurry that close up. Unless of course he was sucking his cock and could look up at his face. That was different, though. He couldn't see Sam's dick twitching and pulsing when his lips were wrapped around it. He could feel it, sure. Taste it. Smell it, even.

Fuck, he was getting harder thinking about this.

When he touched Sam's skin with his fingers, he could watch the reaction of the very place he was touching. Like now, for instance, as he pulled his mouth off of Sam's nipple and rested his forehead on Sam's chest, body arched up off of him just enough so that he could watch as he trailed a hand down between them. Dean's fingers traced a feather-light trail from in between Sam's pecs and down, down, down... Dean watched as the muscles in his brother's stomach twitched and fluttered as his fingers touched the skin. He watched as Sam's hard cock jumped just a bit up off of his stomach before settling back down, as his fingers got closer to it. He smiled.

These senses, of course, did not included hearing. That was a given. Even if Dean was deaf, he would still immensely enjoy the other sensory pleasures. But he never wanted to lose his ability to hear the noises Sam made in response to the things Dean did to him. He wouldn't trade that for world peace. He might end up feeling bad about that, if it ever came down to it. But he'd be reminded daily that it was so very worth it.

Sam couldn't help whimpering as Dean's mouth began following the trail his fingers had previously traveled. He was torn between closing his eyes so that he could just concentrate on the touch, and opening them so he could watch his brother's administrations. Sometimes watching was an overload, though. Sometimes he had to close his eyes just to hold himself back from losing it too soon.

He nearly growled in frustration when Dean's mouth passed by Sam's cock, his fingers merely ghosting over it in a brief tease. Dean chuckled at him, breath puffing out to hit the crease where his leg met his pubic bone, tongue running up the line like it was a trail of melting ice cream. Dean's thumb ran up the crease on the other side at the same time, both actions careful not to touch Sam's cock, though right at the end, Dean's cheek ended up whispering over the side of it, making Sam's hips attempt to press up off of the mattress. Dean held him still, though, and chuckled again as Sam slammed his head back onto the pillow, hands gripping the sheets on either side of him in effort not to grab his brother's head and put it exactly where he wanted it to be.

"Patience, little brother," Dean grinned up at him. "Not like we're going anywhere for a while." He crept his way back up to Sam's face. "We've got at least six weeks here," he whispered against his mouth before kissing him briefly, then kissed down his jaw as he continued, "I plan to do a lot of this. Every square foot of this room is getting christened. Sometimes it might be fast, but more often I'm gonna take my time." Then his mouth moved to his ear and whispered, "You're gonna take it like a good boy, aren't you, Sammy?" He felt Sam's body shudder beneath him before Sam nodded. Dean pushed up a bit to look him in the eyes, noticing how much darker they'd gotten since just a moment earlier. "Flip over," he told him, licking his lips.

Sam swallowed, breath quickening as he twisted himself around onto his stomach underneath Dean. As much as Sam enjoyed taking orders (in bed, anyway), Dean's dick never failed to jump when his brother followed his commands. He wished that worked for hunting, too; when Sam would start to get an attitude about it, he could push him up against a tree or whatever, and get him all worked up and hot and bothered until he remembered how much he liked taking orders from Dean. But...that was a bit much to ask for, and there usually wasn't time for dry-humping in the middle of a monster-infested forest.

Dean pulled Sam up on his knees once he was flipped over, Sam's head still face-down on the mattress. Dean's hands spread over the globes of his brother's ass, his thumbs grazing into where they met in the middle and spreading him open. The pucker fluttered, squeezing closed and open again in anticipation. Dean couldn't resist.

"God!" Sam's hand came up and smacked against the wall in front of him, pressing himself back into that hot wet tongue that teased his opening. But just as soon as the pressure pushed into him, it was quickly pulled away, and Dean's hand was rough on the back of Sam's neck pressing his head back down onto the mattress.

"Stay like this," Dean growled, draped over the back of him as he spoke. "Hold still, or I'll figure out a way to tie you up like this." For a moment he felt like maybe that was a bit too much. But the way Sam's whole body shivered beneath him, showed him that it was only turning him on even more. He felt him nod under his hand, and he had to keep from giving in to the urge to shove into him right then and there.

Instead, he shoved back down to his previous task, attacking and devouring Sam's ass like it was the world's best rhubarb pie. The way Sam's hole pulsed around Dean's tongue made Dean have to grip the base of his own dick to keep himself at bay. Well that and the fact that even though Sam held still like he'd been ordered to, he made no efforts to quiet his verbal response.

The string of moans and disconnected syllables only grew louder as Dean added fingers, generously applying lube and stretching him. Slowly, purposefully, Dean worked. It'd been weeks since he'd done this and suddenly he missed it more than ever right then.

Fingers still working, twisting in Sam's shaking body, vibrating with the effort to keep still, Dean kissed his way back up to Sam's neck.

"Dean...please..." he whimpered, and Dean could see the sheen layer of sweat on his forehead, the white knuckles of his brother's fingers that had been gripping the sheets so hard there had to be holes worn in them.

"Almost, baby," he pressed his mouth to his. "You tell me where you want it to be," he offered. "Tell me what position you wanna be in and where you wanna do it, and we'll do it."

"Just...just want you in me, De," he replied, breathlessly. "Need you..."

"Fuck, baby, yeah I know. Me too," he said as he slotted up behind him, his hard, glistening cock sliding maddeningly along Sam's crack. "How about like this?" Dean asked, though part of him kinda wanted something different. Don't get him wrong, cock-in-ass was the main goal, here, and doing it in this position wasn't at all a turn-off. But...

"Wanna see you," Sam told him, and Dean was kinda relieved because that's exactly what he wanted, too.

Dean moved off of him and let him turn over, and Sam had done so by pushing up on his knees and 'walking' on them in a circle. In that moment, Dean had a flash of imagery in his head; a fantasy newly born and he was determined to play it out now. Before Sam could lie back down, Dean had him pressed back against the wall. Slightly shocked and confused eyes looked back at him, but Dean just smirked and moved his hands to the back of Sam's thighs.

"Wanna do it like this, Sammy," he told him. "Want you to wrap your legs around me and I'll hold you up against the wall..."

Sam's breath shuddered out of him. "Yeah," is all he could respond with as he repositioned his legs, letting the pressure of the wall behind him and Dean in front of him allow him to bring his legs up like Dean had asked. All he could do was grip onto Dean's shoulders as he felt the head of his cock line up at his entrance. Their eyes met. Dean slid right into the slick, stretched hole with little resistance, and Sam let out a shout, eyes slipping shut on a roll, his head banging back into the wall loud enough that, if he didn't know how close he already was to it, Dean would've checked for damage.

When he was all the way in, balls pressed up against Sam's, Dean let out a guttural groan and buried his face in his brother's neck, trying really hard not to give in to the temptation to bite down into it until it bled. He stayed there, just like that for a while, basking in the sensation of being buried inside of the man he loved more than anything. Sam didn't seem to mind. Being filled with Dean's thick, hard cock finally, after what seemed like forever, wasn't something he was ready for being over very quickly.

After a few more moments, however, they were both ready to continue. Dean pulled his head up at met his brother's eyes again, their panting breaths combining together before mouths joined once more.

Dean slowly pulled partly out, pressing firmly back in causing a humming moan against each others lips. He picked up the pace a bit, driving in and out of Sam, their breathing eventually coming so hard that they had to pull their mouths apart in order to get proper oxygen. Their foreheads rested against each other, eyes locked as Dean continued. He felt the pressure of Sam's fingers digging into his shoulders so hard that, if he didn't always bite his nails, he was sure they'd be piercing his skin at this point; maybe even drawing blood.

Sam's body moved against the wall with the force of Dean's thrusts. Up and down. Up and down. Faster; harder. Dean could feel the swell of Sam's cock pressed between their bellies, twitching in time with his brother's increased whimpering.

"Dean...Dean...fuck..." Sam could barely focus on his brother's face anymore.

"Yeah, baby," Dean breathed, picking up the pace even more, the slap of skin hitting skin joining the parade of sounds. "You gonna come for me?" Sam keened, head falling back against the wall again, not taking his eyes off of Dean's. "Gonna come too, Sammy... Come on...come with me, baby...Oh fuck!" he lost all rhythm as his orgasm quickly approached, balls tightening almost painfully as he watched Sam fall apart in front of him. But he held on until Sam was wordlessly screaming, and hot, wet splashes hit his chest and stomach. Then he let go...

The world came back from where it had grayed out from his sight, and Dean remembered them gracelessly falling backward onto the bed, Sam sliding slightly off of him, but limbs still draped lazily over his. They were a mess, and Dean couldn't honestly give two fucks because goddamn that was awesome.

He didn't know how long he laid there staring up at the ceiling, dick still twitching and pulsing as if it was under the impression there was anything left to wring out. But eventually he turned his head to look at Sam...who consequently was already looking at him, eyes wet and unreadable before Sam decidedly tucked his head onto Dean's shoulder. Sam's arms, slung over Dean's middle, hugged a bit more purposefully, keeping him close as though he might leave; as if he had an ounce of strength left to do so. Dean bent the arm that was under Sam's neck, to drape up and settle in his brother's hair, then placed a kiss on top of his head, and closed his eyes.

*~.~*

When Dean woke up, not having realized he'd fallen asleep in the first place, he realized he'd been cleaned up; clean boxers pulled on, and a sheet casually draped over him. Sam wasn't in bed with him anymore, but he came to the realization that that was because he was at the door talking to someone.

He glanced over in time to see him close it and carry a large paper back over to the table. Sam smiled over at him. "Knew you'd be up once the food got here."

"Food," Dean repeated as if he'd just learned the word, and right in time, his stomach let out a growl Sam could hear from across the room. His smile widened.

"Come eat," he said with a small laugh as he started emptying out the bag onto the table. "They didn't have actual pie. But I got you a few of the fried apple turnovers."

"Chinese food," Dean said as he crawled out of bed, finally, making his way to the chair opposite his brother.

"Very good, class," Sam smirked. "Tomorrow we'll be learning adjectives."

"Shut up, Sam," he grumbled without any heat to it, grabbing a plastic fork and one of the many boxes of low mein. "You know we've got a kitchen full of groceries, right? I could've cooked you something."

"I could've cooked, too," Sam replied, "But I honestly didn't feel like it. I thought this would be easier."

"Right now, yeah probably," he agreed. "I'm starved."

"Burned a lot of energy," Sam grinned as he opened his box of fried veggies.

"But I'll cook tomorrow," he added. "I wanna make you a good breakfast. Even got our own coffee and stuff."

"Sounds great," Sam nodded. They were silent for a while, shoving copious amounts of likely unhealthy combinations of meat and pasta down their throats. After weeks of hospital food, this stuff was pretty amazing. Sam was full before Dean, and he set aside his empty box before leaning back, satisfied, in his chair.

"You want that last egg roll?" Dean asked, gesturing to the one sitting in front of Sam.

"Have at it," Sam pushed it across the table. Then after a moment, "Hey...I've been thinking..."

"Oh crap," Dean set down his fork and opted to wipe his face with a napkin. "That's never a good sign," he said, sarcastically.

"No, seriously, Dean," he continued. "I've been thinking about what the doctor said."

Dean straightened. Oh... "What about it?" he asked, more seriously.

"About the fact that I might...ya know, never be back to a hundred percent."

"You will, Sam," he assured, brows furrowing with certainty.

"But if I don't...you'd really stop hunting? Like...be okay with that?" his face read guilt and regret.

Dean had to put a stop to that, fast. "Of course I would, Sam."

"But it's what you do. It's who you are, Dean. I don't wanna hold you back from that. I can't ask you to give that up..."

"Sam," Dean pulled his chair a little closer and grabbed onto the hand that Sam had been absentmindedly nervously picking at the hole of his jeans with. "I know that when you asked me go with you back then, when you left the life to go off to college, I said no. I know I told you that hunting was who I was, who I am. But Sam...you are part of what I am, too. A huge part, gigantor size aside," he smirked, and Sam just shook his head. "Seriously though, I couldn't go with you. I couldn't leave Dad without someone to have his back. And you only left because you knew he had mine. You left because that was your choice, Sam. But it couldn't be mine; not when it was just because you wanted it to be that way.

"My job, Sam, first and foremost over everything, is watchin' out for you," he stated, though Sam shook his head and looked away, like he didn't need that to be a rule anymore. "And it's always been more than a job or a rule, for me. You've always been the most important thing, Sammy. You've always been number one on my list.

"You left. That was a choice, and it was okay," he said, and Sam looked at him again, feeling a bit guilty. "It should've been okay; should've worked out for you, leaving hunting behind and just being a normal person. But you chose to come back. You chose to hunt again, with me. Without you, Sam, hunting wasn't nearly as fulfilling," he admitted. "Hell, half the time I was killin' monsters, all I could think about was how far away from you we were, and that if something were to happen, we'd be too far away. When you came back...everything made sense again. But it ain't about the hunting, Sam, it's about you. I ain't happy without you. And even after we killed the yellow-eyed demon, that one big thing that was the driving force and end-goal and very reason for us ever hunting in the first place, you still chose to stay with me.

"This? This ain't a choice, Sam. You're not choosing to leave the life. You've been shoved out of it, regardless how temporary...or otherwise, it might be. And if that's what's gonna go down, hell yes I'd leave the life with you. As long as we're together, that's all I need, Sam," he told him. "Doesn't matter where we are or what we're doing. This is all I need; someplace to lay my head at night beside my unlawfully-wedded husband." He smiled at his brother, and Sam's eyes were wet again, like they'd been earlier before he'd passed out without knowing it. "I know," he shrugged, "You love me."

Sam let out a breathy laugh, pushing forward out of his seat to jump Dean in his, latching himself around him in an embrace that almost forced the chair to tip over backwards. Dean could only laugh at how silly it must look to have his moose of a brother somehow contorted on the chair wrapped around him.

He hugged him back, of course, squeezing all the harder as the force of his own words and the absorption of the love conveyed in Sam's eyes as he pulled away to meet his, overwhelmed him. He knew, in that moment, that there was no doubt in the statements he'd told Sam. Not a single iota. This really was all he needed. Nothing else mattered...

~end~


End file.
